Heart of a Queen
by The Moonlily
Summary: "You are a Princess of Dol Amroth, Lothíriel, and you were born as brave and proud as your brothers."
1. A Bride for the King

**Title:** Heart of a Queen

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairings:** Éomer/Lothíriel

 **Genre:** Romance/Drama

 **Summary:** "You are a Princess of Dol Amroth, Lothíriel, and you were born as brave and proud as your brothers."

 **Disclaimer:** The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.

 **Author's Note:** My muse works weirdly sometimes. For one, he likes to keep me up at night when I should be sleeping. Well, this much you knew, if you have been previously following me and my fics. And some stories come to me and I just have to write them down, even if I have other things going on already. This is one such occasion.

Don't worry - _A Long and Winding Road_ is not going to be neglected by this one. In fact, these detours usually tend to refresh my muse for the main thing I'm doing at the time. And in any case, this will probably be three, four chapters at most (this time I mean it). My tumblr friends and followers will probably guess this is the "unnamed story" I was talking about some days ago - it really has started to live a life of its own!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **A Bride for the King**

 _May 3020_

The first time she saw him was in Minas Tirith.

One year exactly had passed since the day King Elessar had entered the city after the war's ending, and many of the heroes who had fought against Sauron had travelled back for a reunion. There was to be a great celebration to honour the year of peace and prosperity, and for the brothers in arms to meet up once more. At least, that was what Father had stated to Lothíriel with a formal note that made him sound like he was giving her a speech. It was all well and good, and she was as eager for the commotion and excitement caused by the upcoming feasts as anybody.

As such, she never saw his suggestion coming on the afternoon no less than two hours after they had arrived in the White City. Her brothers had left the house almost as soon as they had entered it, as they were in hurry to go and meet friends they had made during and after the war. Amrothos in particular had been unbearable, as on their way to Minas Tirith he had done nothing but rambled about his Rohirric friends and how this time, he was so going to out-drink them.

Lothíriel herself had been much more collected about the trip, and her first deed upon arrival had been to talk with the housekeepers of their town-house and give necessary orders for the staff. After that, she was busy unpacking and settling down in her rooms, when a servant came to summon her, saying her father wanted to see her in his study.

She put aside whatever was in her hands at the time and made her way down the hall to the door of Father's study. Her mood was light and she thought whatever he had in mind had to do with the banquet tonight, which would be hosted by King Elessar himself to an assortment of his friends and acquaintances. Idly she thought it would be interesting indeed, perhaps even recall the feasts a year ago now. She hadn't participated any of those, because when he had ridden with her brothers to defend Minas Tirith, Father had left her in charge of Dol Amroth – a dreadful task, it had seemed when he had first assigned it to her, but somehow she had managed.

When she entered the study, Father was pacing slowly back and forth while reading what looked like a letter, and she smiled fondly. He could never keep still when he was thinking. But then he lifted his eyes to see his only daughter, and a smile appeared on his features. He was tall, just as her brothers, and there was something kind and friendly about his features. She knew she resembled him a great deal, as they both had dark hair and grey eyes, and they had always understood each other in a way her other siblings did not share.

"There you are, my dear", he said as she approached him and tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

"You wanted to talk with me, Father?" she asked him, and at her question, he gently took her hand.

"Indeed I did. Come, sit with me, Lothíriel – I have something important to speak of with you", he said, pulling her after himself to a pair of chairs next to a window. They took seat there, and he looked at her with warm eyes.

"I must admit, it impressed me to see how you took over the management of the house when we arrived", he said and smiled at her.

She shrugged and clasped her hands in her lap.

"No one else was going to do it", she said simply, and her father let out a wry little chuckle.

"You are quite right about that, daughter... you have always been much more responsible than your brothers. They took a lot more raising than you did, Lothíriel", he said, considering her thoughtfully, until a small frown appeared on his brow. "I know it's because of your mother. She left us all too soon, and her passing made you feel like you had to make up for her absence. While I'm thankful for the way you took care of us all, I have sometimes regretted it, daughter – it was my failure as a father. I should have made sure you could still be a child."

"But a city like Dol Amroth needs a lady, Father, and Amrothos in particular would never have survived to adulthood without someone minding him", she pointed out, and shook her head. "It's no matter. You were always good to us. And I don't think I would have been happy to grow up pampered and idle."

"No, I suppose that's not like you", Father agreed and leaned forward in his chair. He regarded her keenly now. "That is also what has had me thinking lately, daughter. You know I made friends with King Éomer of Rohan back during the days of war. He proved himself a good, brave man, and it's thanks to him that Minas Tirith still stands."

Father let out a small sigh then and he took her hand in his own as he continued, "I have been in correspondence with him during the past winter, as you probably noticed by all those riders coming and going, delivering letters. Éomer writes of many challenges he is facing and of his frustration with his advisers. As you can imagine, they are eager he should marry as soon as possible. It has given me an idea, daughter, of a union between our House and his. He has not said yes or no yet, but we both agree it would be sensible politics, as it would bring our two peoples even closer together. And the war is over now, and sooner or later, your sister-in-law will take over the place of the Lady of Dol Amroth, as is her right as Elphir's wife. When that day comes, I would want your future to be secured."

"So you mean I should wed the King of Rohan, Father?" Lothíriel asked at last, and she wasn't sure what she thought about this – not beyond wondering if King Éomer would think of her as a part of the weregild; that by her bearing his heirs, Gondor would make up for Rohirrim who had died defending Minas Tirith...

"I mean only that you should meet him, Lothíriel. See if you like him, and if he likes you. I am not making any decisions for you, and what happens next depends entirely on your choice", he answered steadily. "Just remember it is in your power to make our alliance with Rohirrim even stronger. And through you, the blood of Dol Amroth would live on with the House of Eorl."

* * *

When she got ready for the ball that night, Lothíriel asked her maid to see some extra effort for her hair and overall appearance. She didn't know if it was necessary, and how this night would turn out, but she had decided to try at least. After all, Father would be disappointed if she acted indifferent, and she had been raised with the knowledge one day she would be married to the man whose connections would best benefit her House. Yet even she, daughter of an ancient and noble line, could only have imagined becoming the wife of a king.

And so she had entered the hall in the Tower of Ecthelion – not the great feasting hall of Merethrond, but a smaller one, and more intimate for such company as was gathered tonight. Her maid had piled her hair in a crown of braids that descended open on her right shoulder, and she was wearing her favourite blue and silver gown along with her mother's star-shaped pendant on her breast, hoping these things would lend her some confidence for what was to come. It was not every day one met a famous young king with the hopes of catching his eye. Maybe it was all unnecessary, anyway; she knew Rohirrim were blond and tall, so perhaps she with her dark hair and small stature would be most unappealing to the king of horselords.

She reminded herself neither of them could be making any decisions just based on looks. This was clearly to be a marriage of convenience, and if they were to manage as king and queen, they would have to be at least compatible, if not affectionate towards one another.

Lothíriel shook herself and bit the insides of her cheeks. Nothing was decided yet and it was silly to plan ahead when she hadn't even met the man.

Fortunately, the occasion was not very formal, and there was no herald to announce them when she arrived with Father. She knew he would have liked to bring her straight to the Rohirric king and get the introductions out of the way, but she told him she needed a moment to prepare.

"I will come when I'm ready, Father", she told him, and thankfully, he understood.

Getting ready required two glasses of wine, which she more or less gulped down as she stood hidden behind some pillars at the left side of the hall. She took cover there also because she was not in the mood of exchanging pleasantries with other guests; it was demanding enough to keep her act together as it was. Not to mention, she didn't yet know what kind of a man King Éomer was, and how much effort she would have to put into keeping up small talk between them.

Having emptied the glass and feeling the warmth induced by wine spreading into her limbs, Lothíriel took a deep breath and moved so behind the pillar that she could search the crowd with her eyes, but remain mostly hidden. She wanted to take a good look at this Rohirric king before actually meeting him, as it wouldn't be polite to stare when she was face to face with him. True, she wasn't going to make any choice just based on how he looked, but she wasn't going to jump into this blindly, either. The princess had heard many stories of him and his people – some said he was a great war-hero and an honourable man, but there were also those who weren't at all impressed with the Rohirrim. Some whispers went as far as saying they were a lesser people, a band of wild, uncivilised brigands who were only somewhat redeemed because of their hatred of the Dark Lord. Apparently they always smelled of horses and spoke in an incomprehensible language, couldn't read or write, and were altogether too noisy. However, the letters passed between her Father and the Rohirric king at least refuted the bit about reading and writing, and Lothíriel's own brothers and her father had always spoken highly of King Éomer. She was more inclined to appreciate their opinion than what went by in court gossip.

But then, a man's comrades in arms would naturally consider him differently than the woman who was to marry him. And her brothers in particular probably had other standards for what made a good man than she did.

And so she moved her gaze over the crowd of guests, her eyes set on looking for her father – he had said he'd go and greet the Rohirric king, and so she was like to see him too once she had spotted her sire.

Incidentally, it was King Éomer himself she saw first instead of Father – which was no wonder when she took in the full sight of him – and the moment her eyes set on the man, she knew it was _him._

For the longest time, the only thing Lothíriel could do was stare, and she scarcely knew what to think. He was... _big._ Yes, that was the chief thing about him: he was even taller than the men of her family, and he was broader than them, too. His shoulders and arms looked strong enough for carrying a cave-troll on his back, and his long legs were like trunks of trees. He stood with his feet apart, hands clasped behind his back; even in this peaceful setting he seemed ready for battle. Lothíriel thought this horselord was twice as large as any reasonably-sized person should be, and even from this distance, she suddenly felt quite small in comparison.

Eventually, when she had got over the initial shock over the sheer amount of the man, she began to notice other things. He had that famous blond hair, which fell below his shoulders in smooth waves and she noted how candle-light lent it a soft golden shine. The shade went well with the dark green of his tunic – unusual colour in Gondor, as green had gone out of vogue years ago.

She saw him shift slightly, turning his head as though a great beast listening for some tiny noise made by potential prey, and suddenly Lothíriel felt like somehow, he knew she was staring at him. She shook her head and felt her cheeks warm up, but she reminded herself she was well-hidden and something else must have caught his attention. It occurred to her there _was_ some truth about it when people said there was wildness in these horselords, but it wasn't the kind implied in stories. To her it seemed something elemental, something not out of this age.

At last, her eyes took in more than just the King of Rohan. She saw her father, and the way he was searching the crowd about them suggested he was starting to get anxious for her arrival.

Lothíriel took another deep breath and smoothed her hands across her gown, though she knew it was unwrinkled and her appearance was the best it could be. And Father had said the king was a good man. If he was serious about finding himself a queen, then he wouldn't interested in whether or not she looked like a strange breed of beardless dwarf next to him.

It was time to actually meet the Lord of Rohirrim.

* * *

Emerging from her safe little hideout and walking down to where Father was talking with King Éomer felt a bit like she was in a dream. Slowly she made her way past other guests, and her answering smiles and greetings were mechanical. No doubt the slightly dizzy sensation in her head was also partly because of wine.

"There you are, daughter! I was wondering if you would be joining us", Father spoke in delight when he saw her approaching, and she was able to return his smile. Why was she feeling so nervous suddenly? King Éomer was just a man, even if he bore striking resemblance to a giant. She wasn't going to be married off come the morning – all she had to do was just talk with the horselord.

"Father", she greeted her sire and halted to stand by his side, and then she carefully turned to look at the King of Rohan.

He looked even bigger up close and she had to fight the urge to step back. She thought he could have easily rested his chin on the top of her head and she thought she would have to stand on a box if she wanted to look into his eyes without having to tip her face upwards. Said eyes revealed very little of his character, as did his face. She did notice they were sharp and discerning, though the dark shade of them surprised her; she had thought Rohirrim were all blue-eyed. There was almost unsettling depth to the man's gaze, and she thought he had eyes of a much older man than his twenty and nine years.

Lothíriel couldn't exactly say if he was a handsome fellow – he was too foreign for her to make such a judgement. Well, perhaps he was, if you liked them with so much hair on them. Though in his defence, his beard was neatly trimmed close to his jaw, and his hair was clean and neatly fastened at the back of his head. A smile would have adorned his face well, she thought, but somehow she got the feeling such expression did not often appear on his solemn features.

"Éomer, this here is my daughter, Princess Lothíriel", Father said, startling her from her thoughts. She blushed in embarrassment, as she had already forgotten Father was even present.

"Pleasure to meet you, my lord", she said and curtsied at the horselord, who took her offered hand in his own to plant a kiss on it. Idly she noted his hand was as big as a shovel, hard and callous, but also warm without being sweaty in the slightest. She just hated it when the lords of the society had cold, clammy hands and refused to let go of hers.

"Likewise, my lady", King Éomer answered, and the timbre of his voice had her skin on goosebumps. He didn't speak loudly, but she felt it was never hard to miss what he said.

A short silence followed, until Father cleared his throat and he smiled again at his Rohirric friend.

"Well, perhaps I will leave you two to get better acquainted with each other", he said warmly, kissed his daughter's brow quickly, and then made his exit as gracefully as could be expected.

Lothíriel cleared her throat as well, determined not to let an awkward silence fall between herself and the Rohirric king. Her first impression did not seem to imply he was an avid conversationalist, at least not with people he had never met before. But that was hardly a problem for her. After all, being able to conjure small talk was a necessity for any well-bred lady, and she had been taught by no one else than her aunt Ivriniel – a woman well known for her chattiness. Father had once said Aunt could probably make conversation with rocks if she just put her mind into it.

Afterwards, she wouldn't remember much of what they talked about. Her head remained dizzy through it, and most of her focus went into keeping up a coherent conversation with the Rohirric king. He seemed like a man of few words, and he didn't make many starters for a discussion, but he did respond politely to things she said. He had a deep, booming voice, which matched well his physical appearance. She thought he would have to raise it only a little in order to get the attention of everyone in this half of the hall. Most colour and liveliness he expressed when she mentioned her cousin Faramir and Lady Éowyn, the King's sister, and for a second Lothíriel thought she could glimpse another man entirely behind his tightly kept façade – a man who was not at all so withdrawn or quiet but thought and felt deeply – but quickly his true self was hidden again. Briefly she wondered if he ever revealed it in the presence of her father and brothers, or if he was always so reserved towards everyone.

It came to an end at last, when Lord Hurin of the Keys joined their company along with a few other lords who were part of King Elessar's council. Eventually, Lothíriel slunk away, feeling like her welcome in the King's presence was long over. When she took her leave, her mind remained undecided. And whether King Éomer had made any resolution or even considered her a potential bride, she couldn't say, either.

* * *

"So, daughter, what did you think of King Éomer?" Father inquired her the following morning. He had asked her to join him in the garden of their town-house – a quiet, green spot of peace that was surrounded by walls. Few trees grew there and the flowerbeds seemed to echo the memory of those back in Dol Amroth, though the variance and splendour of flowers was much greater back home. In the middle, there was a small fountain, bubbling away happily. Sometimes doves would land there to drink from the fountain, filling the garden with their soft cooing. The garden was Lothíriel's favourite thing about the house, and she often came there if she was in the city with her family.

"I... don't really know, Father. He doesn't talk much, and what little he does say offers no help in judging his character", she answered, frowning slightly as they walked with arms linked.

"He doesn't let people close very easily or quickly. But I can assure you he is a good man, fiercely loyal to those he cares about, and you will not find a more reliable friend once you have gained his trust", Father said, patting her hand gently. "I think he would make a good husband to you, if you gave him a chance to warm up. And I'm sure he will do just that. You are a very charming young woman, Lothíriel. Certainly your presence would bring much grace and delight not only to his court, but to his hearth as well."

"And what could he bring to _my_ hearth, Father?" she asked him, looking at her sire sharply.

He smiled at her.

"I was waiting for when you'd ask that", he answered fondly, but then his expression sobered. "You are a Princess of Dol Amroth, Lothíriel, and you were born as brave and proud as your brothers. Women of Imrazôr and Mithrellas' line have never done well in idleness, and sometimes when I look into your eyes, I see there a desire for great things... such desire as would live in the heart of a queen. Rohan is different than Gondor, my child, and there a woman like you could find her strength appreciated in ways that are not possible in our society. And you were not born to be the lady of some small lord, to be shown off like a pretty ornament and locked away for the rest of the time."

"What do you mean, Father?" she asked her, her brow creasing slightly.

"Éomer is a young man, but I think he has it in him the makings of a great king. And daughter, the woman who weds him, if she has your gifts and your spirit, can achieve greatness by his side. This is your chance to make a difference, to use what you have to build and heal and teach others. You could help him to make Rohan prosper and grow stronger than ever before. If you show him your worth, one day you will stand beside him and _rule_ with him", Father explained, and there was an eager light in his eyes. Now his words of yesterday, all that talk about securing her future, made so much more sense.

She was speechless. These things he spoke of... now she understood why Father had refused all offers for her hand since she had come of age. Previously, she had thought it was simply because he couldn't bear to let her go. Well, perhaps that was it in part. But now she understood it was also because King Éomer was the first man he thought worthy of her.

"You truly think so? That I could become someone like that?" she asked at last, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I do, Lothíriel. You are the Jewel of Dol Amroth, and to me you have already proven yourself. Since the night you were born, I have known you were meant for something extraordinary", he answered, looking at her solemnly.

"And does he think the same?" she wanted to know.

Once more, her father smiled.

"He will, if you show him."

* * *

Father did not ask her to give an answer yet. He just told her to take her time and think of it in peace. As for himself, he left soon after for the Citadel – there were formal meetings between the two kings and as King Elessar's trusted friend and adviser, Father's presence was required. Lothíriel's brothers were out of the house as well, and so she did have plenty of quiet to think about the choice before her.

However, as she wandered through the garden and cut a flower from here and there to arrange them in the dining hall, she quickly decided she couldn't make her choice, not before she had met the intended bridegroom again and had some idea if he was willing to go through with this idea. Perhaps Father had known to expect that too, because when he returned for lunch, he brought the Rohirric king along. Seeing them in the courtyard as they made for the main door of the town-house, Lothíriel had to wonder if there had ever been a more unlikely pair of friends. Father spoke animatedly of something, and the horselord nodded quietly, wearing a thoughtful look on his face. In the middle of all this white stone, the golden-haired Lord of Rohirrim seemed oddly out of place.

Such a setting of them eating lunch together could easily have turned out rather uncomfortable, especially when none of her brothers were around to help out with holding the conversation, or to engage the king's attention with anecdotes on affairs they both knew. But if Lothíriel had been taught to entertain, so had her father, and he had twice her experience. As a result, the occasion wasn't half bad, and her sire even managed to get the Rohir to deliver answers longer than two sentences. But whenever he looked straight at her and those unsettling eyes of his considered her, she felt a most peculiar tightening in the bottom of her stomach.

Nevertheless, her curiosity was not so easily defeated. The princess observed the blond man as much as she dared, though she tried to keep her stares as few and far in between as this newly risen inquisitiveness would allow. She even spied him smiling once or twice, and she understood the man liked her father. That was, she supposed, the reason he had agreed to at least consider marrying her in the first place.

When they had cleared their plates and finished their drinks, Father looked at her with a smile, and he suggested, "My dear, would you like to show our garden to King Éomer? It is quite lovely at this time of the year, and I wouldn't have him miss it. You know how we always say it's a bit of Dol Amroth here in the city."

"Of course, Father", she answered, though suddenly she felt almost as nervous as last night. But she reminded herself of what he had said to her this morning, and so she gave a small, tentative smile to the King of Rohan, "My lord? If you would follow me?"

"Aye, my lady", he answered, nodded at Father, and trailed after her into the garden.

The weather was nice and the garden was lovely indeed, bright with flowers of May. But she didn't think a warrior king like him would truly have interest in such a place, even if he politely followed her and considered whatever she happened to show him. When she asked if there were any gardens in Edoras, he merely said, "There is one in Meduseld."

Anyone who hadn't cared to take their time to observe him might have taken the answer for a sign of simplicity. However, she already knew it was just what he chose to show her, and behind his curt answers was a man who responded well to her father and brothers, but always kept her at least an arm's reach away.

Lothíriel bit her lip. She didn't feel like she was doing very well, and it was frustrating when she didn't know what he even thought of her. Was he here simply out of courtesy, or did he have any interest in her father's idea of their union? She couldn't deny the possibilities her sire had presented were tempting. He was right: she did desire greater things than just idling her days in Minas Tirith or Dol Amroth. In Rohan, her life could have meaning unlike anything she could otherwise hope to have.

And it all depended on whether this blond giant who looked so lost in the middle of all these flowers wanted to take her to wife.

"My lord", she spoke at last, her tone more plain than until now, and she forced herself to look straight into his eyes. Their stare was as intense as ever, making her wonder if other Rohirrim were at all like him, or if he was one of a kind. And either way, could she really be his queen?

"My lord", she continued, slightly stronger now, "Forgive me for being so blunt, but I must ask you if you came here today only out of courtesy, or if... if you are considering my father's proposal."

The tall man remained silent for the longest time. Still he kept staring at her, and she felt uneasy, wondering desperately what he was thinking. If he would just talk like normal people!

"My lady", he said at last, folding his hands behind his back, "When I have made up my mind, you will be the first to know."

He seemed to hesitate then, and he briefly looked away from her. But when he turned to meet her eyes once more, there was a quizzical look on his face.

"Lady Lothíriel, I would like to know one thing. Does your father expect you agree to marry me?" he asked her, his voice growing louder than it had been until now. He had a voice fit for battlefields and wide lands, a voice for songs that were sad yet fair. Perhaps that was why he spoke so little.

"He doesn't expect anything. But I believe it is what he hopes. He says it's sensible politics and a good thing for both our peoples", she answered slowly, wondering what had made him ask that.

His reaction took her by surprise: a wry smile appeared on his features for a second, and she thought she could even glimpse some dry amusement in his eyes. So, there _was_ a person with feelings and a sense of humour somewhere behind all those walls.

"Indeed", he said, speaking in those low tones again, "He's not wrong about that."

The horselord looked away once more and he moved slowly from her. She saw his brow creasing as he halted by the fountain. How could he be so hard to read? Usually, she didn't have such trouble guessing what people were thinking or feeling. Maybe it was because he was so unlike anyone she had known until now.

He moved again, sharper this time, and he turned to face her.

"And you, my lady? What do _you_ expect?" King Éomer asked, his eyes holding her captive where she stood.

"I expect to do my duty, and bring honour to my House", she answered softly and looked down.

There was a silence, but he broke it by picking up her hand in his own. It was just as she remembered, warm and hard, but there was surprising gentleness in his touch. He gave her knuckles a quick, small kiss before letting her go again.

"Then know, my lady, that you may consider myself available, if you decide your duty would have you unite your House with mine. For my part, I can say I would be honoured to call you my wife", he stated, quiet and formal. It was worlds away from the romantic stories she had used to read when she had been younger. But then, it wasn't like she had expected her own life to follow such courses.

King Éomer bowed at her and once more he took that warrior's stance, which seemed to be his most natural state of being when he wasn't horseback.

"Princess Lothíriel, I shall wait for your answer. I hope to hear from you soon. Good day", he said, and then, only moments later, he was gone.

Just as last night, she felt a bit like she was walking in a dream. She felt light-headed as she went and sat by the fountain, thinking of what had just happened.

He was available to her. What a way of putting it into words! Obviously, it wasn't going to be a marriage of love. He had promised no affection, just honour and duty. For whatever reason, Rohan's king did not allow people so close to himself – perhaps love didn't even have a name in his language.

But then, honour and duty were best a woman of her status could hope for. Nobility did not marry for love, and stories like that of King Elessar and Queen Arwen were extremely rare. And still... it would have been a lie to say some part of her wouldn't have liked that. To care, to cherish, to love, and receive those things in full measure... and she sensed somewhere behind those walls there was a man with a deep, profound capability to love.

Lothíriel shook her head. That was material for daydreams, and Father had been right to suggest this was a chance that came only once in a lifetime. True, she would probably miss her family and home if she married the King of Rohan. But her father had made a good point as well: she wouldn't be the Lady of Dol Amroth forever, and she felt it in her soul that whatever she had been made of, it wasn't meant for a quiet, small life in some Gondorian lord's little palace.

This was her chance to make a difference in the world, and to give her life meaning beyond anything she had imagined before this day. What was more, King Éomer had accepted her. He would make her his queen, if she so wanted – thus, he already treated her his equal. That was not something many women of her rank got to experience. And he was the first man Father thought worthy of her; first, and probably the last. Or, at least no one like him would ever come her way again.

And that was how she knew what she had to choose.

 _Well,_ she thought to herself, _I suppose he will do._

 _To be continued._


	2. A Mistress for the Hall

**A Mistress for the Hall**

 _April 3021, Edoras_

The morning after the wedding came as bright and fair as spring day could be, and warm sunlight flowed inside the royal chambers of the Golden Hall to summon Lothíriel from her dreams.

At first, she thought nothing except the soft pillow under her cheek and the gentle tickling of light on her neck. In her sleepy mind, she was in Dol Amroth by the sea and time had very little meaning.

But soon enough this imagination grew more and more thin, and she began to notice things that were not familiar. The smell of the room, the sounds carrying from afar, the feel of the mattress... her eyes fluttered open and at once she realised she was not in Gondor.

Lothíriel sat up in the bed and gazed about herself. She was in a spacious chamber, and its furniture was made of dark, polished wood, rich with carvings. There were pelts around the bed – a massive piece with heavy green curtains – and colourful hangings covered the walls. The fireplace was cold and empty, as the season was warm even in this northern land, just as the place next to her in the bed. Her lord husband had decided to spend his first morning as a married man somewhere else than her side.

She breathed deeply, fighting the sensation of doubt at the back of her mind; she couldn't help but remember her sister-in-law's stories, breathlessly shared, of how sweet and wonderful it had been when she and Elphir had got married. But for her, not much had gone according to expectations. Only last night, she had learned the king and queen did not have separate chambers, and she was going to sleep every night for the rest of her life next to the man she had married out of duty. The only private space in this Hall reserved for her was the Queen's Solar, but she didn't think anyone, least of all her newly wedded husband, would take it well if she demanded a bed should be set up for her there.

Now the said man was gone, and she felt suddenly like her insides were twisting into tight knots. What did it mean? Was he not pleased with her? Last night, when he has appeared in this very room wearing nothing but a robe yet somehow looking larger than he ever had, he had told her he wouldn't touch her if she wasn't ready. But she had insisted, telling him they were husband and wife now, and she wanted to be his queen in the fullest sense of the word. So he had joined her in the bed and sealed those oaths they had made before the high and mighty of the western realms. Whether she had been to his liking, she couldn't say. At least now she seriously doubted it, because why else would he have left the bed like a thief in the night?

She had expected Rohirric wedding ceremonies to be simpler than how it was done in Gondor, but couple of days before she had learned otherwise. In fact, her new people placed great deal of significance in their rituals, and she had sensed the solemnity of the moment even if she had not comprehended much of what had been said. What she had understood was that she, with her flower crown and maidens chanting songs of praise around her, was supposed to represent Vána, and her bridegroom stood for Oromë as he rode in his full regalia to claim her. On that moment, when his green cloak billowed behind him and sunlight made his golden hair shine as he rode his great war-horse, it was easy to picture Oromë taking such likeness in the world of Mortal Men. Of course, Rohirrim had other names for the Powers – the Great Hunter they called Béma, but for Vána they had the name of Lǽs. As far as she could tell, each small deed, from the cup of mead they had shared to him giving her the hilt of his sword and her holding the crown of flowers above his head when he lowered himself on one knee before her, held a world of meaning. But even if it was so, King Éomer never smiled once during the ceremony, at least not when she was looking.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Lothíriel spent a long moment just focusing on breathing. It was too soon to worry or wonder if this had been a mistake after all. But even then, she didn't want to be a disappointment. Maybe he had just got cold feet and hadn't known how to face her after their first night together... after all, it wasn't like they had grown any closer during their courtship.

Worrying her lip between her teeth, she thought months that now lay behind. She had been busy preparing for her new life as a queen, picking up a wardrobe fit for her station and whatever objects and artefacts she hoped to use in making Meduseld a court worthy of its king. She had read all the books and scrolls on Rohan she could get in her hands, and even asked if betrothed could send someone to teach her the language and customs of Rohririm. It was hard to tell with King Éomer, but she felt like that particular request had rather pleased him, and he had wasted no time in sending one of his trusted men to instruct her. All this had taken so much of her time she had scarcely thought of what it would be like to actually marry the king of horselords.

And there had been letters. Those written by King Éomer were almost as curt and stiff as the man himself, and read much like a military report. She had done her best in writing bright and pleasant letters for him, hoping to crack his walls and lure out some life, but altogether their correspondence felt a lot as though their very first conversation – superficial, reserved and proper.

 _Well, this is what I agreed on,_ Lothíriel reminded herself. A marriage of convenience _was_ a marriage of convenience, and she had known that full well when she had given her answer.

She took a deep breath as she rose from the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. Glancing over her shoulder, she knew it wouldn't be easy to get used to sleeping next to her lord husband. Since leaving the nursery behind, she had always slept alone... she had taken it for granted she'd have rooms of her own, and that he would come to her whenever he felt like fulfilling his marital duties. However, this meant he would be there each and every night, except when he was not at home.

Unless, of course, he grew weary of her and took a mistress...

To rid herself of that surprisingly disturbing idea, Lothíriel hurried to the washing basin and splashed her face with some cold water. She had scarcely wiped her face dry when there was a knock at the door and a pair of maids waltzed inside, curtsying at her and bidding her good morning in Rohirric. Lothíriel had to seek for the proper answer at first, but eventually it came to her; her grasp of the northern tongue had not improved as quickly as she would have liked. Yet as the maids began to whirl around her and help her to dress, she wondered if she was expected to use only Rohirric here. Did these girls even know any Westron?

"My lady, your gowns are so beautiful! You wouldn't find silk like this in Rohan", said the younger of the two as she marvelled over Lothíriel's dress. It was light and silver-grey, with pearls adorning the neckline and the sleeves. She hoped she and her sister-in-law hadn't exaggerated when they had picked up her new wardrobe; it was one thing to look queenly, and entirely another to prance around like some peacock.

"My lord husband is a great king. I wish to reflect his glory in all things", Lothíriel simply said. She was glad not to sound monotonous when she said that, although she had no idea if the King even made notice of what she wore or if it pleased him. The man remained a mystery to her – just as his current absence did. And so, after searching inside her head for the names of these maids, she asked, "Alfrun, have you seen the King this morning?"

"Yes, my lady. He went out riding, like he does every day", Alfrun answered. She spoke good Westron, even if it was with an accent.

"Oh", Lothíriel answered and took seat by the dressing table, which sat on what she took for her side of the chamber. She assumed it had been brought here only very recently. After all, there had not been a queen in this land for many long years.

As the maids worked over her hair, she wondered if she was supposed to wait until the king returned, or if she could go and have breakfast with her father and brothers. They had all come here to attend her wedding, and stay as guests until the celebrations were over. Apparently, Rohirrim were just as eager to make a fuss when their king married. On the other hand, none who lived now had actually seen a royal wedding – Théoden King had been still a Crown Prince when he had married, and his father Thengel King had wedded Morwen in Gondor.

She had met the old woman years ago, and apparently Thengel's wife still lived a quiet, secluded life in Lossarnarch. Morwen Queen would be ancient by now, even with the blood of Númenor sustaining her. What had she felt when both her son and grandson had fallen in the War of the Ring? Lothíriel remembered Rohirrim had called her Steelsheen – a proud name, but cold and hard, too. It was not a name you gave someone you loved.

The young queen looked up again, "Alfrun, are people very disappointed the King didn't find a bride in his own land?"

The question seemed to surprise both the maids somewhat, and they exchanged a quick look before Alfrun answered.

"My lady, the King chooses as he wills. It's not our place to question it", she merely said, and Lothíriel could not really say what they meant by that. Maybe they thought a direct answer would get them in trouble?

It was no use to wonder. She was King Éomer's wife now, and she would do her best despite what people thought of her. Let them say what they wanted and call her a foreigner; meanwhile, she would make sure Meduseld shined as brightly as the gold that had given its name.

She sat up straighter in her chair, and to Lothíriel it seemed like the face in the mirror looked a bit more confident. Yes, she could do this.

The maids were just adding finishing touches to her hair when the door to the bedchamber opened. The King strode in, and by his attire, one could easily have taken him for some ordinary Rider. For he wore a simple linen shirt and breeches, and there were grass stains on his knees. She wasn't surprised to see a sword on his hip – it seemed he went nowhere without taking it along. It was hard to imagine King Elessar ever making such an appearance, but Lothíriel kept that observation to herself.

"Sire", the maids greeted him and curtsied, and at his quick and sharp gesture, they hurried out of the room.

"My lord", Lothíriel said and got up to curtsy as well. It was strange to feel so utterly formal with the man she had lain with only last night. But then, darkness had made everything different – even him. For when he had come to her for the first time as her husband and taken her in his arms, he had been bold and fiery and unreserved.

"Are you ready, my lady? The breakfast will be served soon", he simply said, not looking at her as he started to pull off his clothes. Her cheeks grew warm, even if this just proved what she had suspected already: the man had no sense of modesty at all when it came to his person. Certainly it didn't seem to bother him to be naked before her embarrassed stare.

"Y-yes", she answered in a strangled voice and turned quickly away. Even so, she couldn't help but spy him through the looking glass, and see him washing and then pulling on some fresh clothes, which were also more formal than his previous attire. He moved quickly and efficiently, and soon he was before the basin, combing his long mane and fastening it at the back of his head – it seemed to be his preferred way to wear his hair.

It took him no more than ten minutes to get ready. But then, he had been a Rider for many years, and she guessed such profession rather made sure you were not wasteful with your time.

"Shall we, then?" he asked her curtly, offering her his arm. It seemed chivalry wasn't an entirely foreign concept to him.

"Yes, my lord", she mumbled, took a deep breath and placed her hand on his forearm. Hopefully, the tell-tale blush would be gone from her cheeks by the time they faced the crowd of wedding guests in the Hall.

* * *

After the wedding festivities, the crowd of guests went their ways again, and in Edoras, life got back on its usual track. Or, perhaps not the usual, because for the first time in decades, the land had a queen. Instead of housekeepers and substitutes, the Golden Hall was once more managed by the King's consort.

It rather surprised Lothíriel how easy it was to fall into a routine. Each day she woke up in the royal chambers of Meduseld, and more often than not she would see her husband had already got up and left for his morning ride – though in some mornings, he would still be moving about the room, and bid her a stiff, quiet _"good morning"_ before he strode out.

When the maids had come and gone, Lothíriel had her breakfast alone, though for couple first weeks, she had little appetite. But eventually Gytha, the woman previously in charge of the King's household and now the one helping her to get familiar with it, gave her a critical eye and stated she looked skinny.

"You'll get sick, my lady, and what a dreadful thing that would be for a newly married wife!" Gytha said and shook her head; that night at dinner, Lothíriel saw her portion was twice as large as usually. After that, she tried to finish her breakfast entirely, whether she had appetite or not.

Days were busy in Meduseld. Much like back in Dol Amroth, Lothíriel managed the household and supervised the servants, sent orders to craftsmen and merchants, met ladies of noble Eorling houses, and made sure the needs of her lord husband were attended to so meticulously he scarcely even noticed it. Her seat was by his side whenever he held court in the Golden Hall, and her task, almost sacred in its nature, was to pass cups of welcome and parting whenever he left or guests came in their Hall. Whenever he rode out, he'd take one knee before her, and she would place her hands upon his golden-haired head as a wife's blessing for his journey. Whether there was any grace to the gesture, she didn't know; some moments she wondered if it even meant anything before the eyes of the Powers if the act contained no genuine love. But this was how things were done in Rohan, and she would play her part. And Lothíriel couldn't deny she wasn't fascinated with the idea that even a king in this land wasn't so proud he wouldn't ask for the grace of his wife.

There was much to learn about how things were done in Meduseld, what were their customs and habits. At the side, Lothíriel was finding out so much about the Mark itself, and she soon realised she had to relearn many things she had taken for granted until now. She couldn't exactly manage her tasks with such formality as back in Dol Amroth, or plan how to feed the royal household like she was used to, and sometimes numbers were muddled in her head; she'd remember the exact amount of grain in storages of her father's holdings, but have no idea about how much of the last year's potatoes were left. Thankfully, Gytha was always by her side, ready to help out and provide the information she needed – or just act as an interpreter when Lothíriel's broken Rohirric failed her.

Of her lord husband she saw little during the day. Father had said that one day she would rule by the side of King Éomer, but obviously that day wouldn't arrive any time soon; he never asked her to join him whenever he was in council with his Marshals and advisers. But he didn't entirely ignore her political potential, either – whenever he needed to know quickly something about Gondor, maybe of its conditions or people, or sometimes what they thought of whatever thing he had in mind, he would ask her of it. She tried to answer the best she could, hoping that this way, he would grow to trust her.

When she had free time, she often spent it learning about her new home. She received riding lessons from the royal Master of Stables, and often Lothíriel thought to herself how envious her brother Elphir in particular would be, if he saw the kind of horses she trained with now. While she had been an adequate rider before, being the queen of the horselords was quite another thing, and at any rate she ought to prepare for the tour of Rohan they would make in a month or two. The King's own minstrel took over the task of instructing her in Rohirric, and he taught her many songs and tales of Rohirrim. With her maids and one of the local ladies as her guide, she explored the capital of horselords, and she got soon enough over her initial amazement for how boldly the common people would come to greet her on the streets of Edoras.

Often the evening came before she had even time to notice it, and dinner was served in the hall. It had come as a surprise for her, that the king and queen would join the rest of the household for the meal, but that seemed to be the way King Éomer preferred it. At any rate, she was not quite so brave and daring that she'd request to dine alone with him. And at times, she wondered if there had ever been a husband and wife who had as little to say to one another as she and the King did.

And so she'd sit next to him on the dais, mostly focused on her own portion while her lord husband leaned the other way, talking with whichever friend or ally of his happened to have the place of honour by his side that night. But Lothíriel would take her dinner silently, unless she was entertaining one of the Rohirric ladies – usually a wife to one of the king's friends and advisers.

If day's work was done in time for dinner, she would then retire to the Queen's Solar or royal chambers. She would have a bath, or read and write letters, or sit by the fire with her embroidery. It was all too easy to feel lonely there, but on the other hand she didn't really know who she should have invited to keep her company. While ladies of Edoras seemed nice enough, she hadn't yet found it in herself to try and befriend one of them.

Sooner or later her eyelids would begin to droop, and so she would crawl into the bed and doze off. Usually, she startled awake when the king joined her, especially if he reached for her in the darkness of the bedchamber. Then she would open her arms for him and let him undress her. The thing she hadn't expected was that though most of the day, her lord husband was no closer to her than some Doorward would be, at night he was an attentive lover who made sure her duty as a wife was not merely something to be endured.

And every day he proved wrong what she had feared on that first morning of their married life; for each night, though it was late at times, he would climb into the bed and settle down next to her in their marriage bed.

* * *

The hardest thing about the whole affair had been saying goodbye to her family after the wedding celebrations came to a close. But Lothíriel had done it with a straight face, sending them on their way – she hadn't wanted them thinking she regretted this. And while in the coming days she often missed them, getting familiar with her new life usually provided her with enough of distraction. With all the duties of the queen, days went by fast.

Lothíriel had been the wife of the King of Rohan for no more than two months when a rider came from Dol Amroth, carrying letters from family and friends. The messenger was none other than her second-oldest brother Erchirion. Upon hearing the arrival of this guest, the young queen had to keep herself from exclaiming in delight. But some enthusiasm must be evident on her face, for Gytha smiled at her and insisted she go to meet her brother.

"I will make sure the prince has a welcome fit for a kinsman", Gytha said and Lothíriel gave her a thankful smile. Though she didn't yet have many friends in Rohan, she felt at least Gytha had established her place on that very short list.

On her way to meet her brother, Lothíriel tried to keep her pace even and retain her dignity. But her heart had picked up a quick pace in her excitement, and she wished she could just fly through the Hall and straight to her sibling.

The Doorwards opened the twin doors for her; usually, she'd smile and thank them when she passed by them. But now she merely hurried outside. The weather was fair and warm and down in the courtyard Lothíriel saw Erchirion. He had just dismounted and was looking around as though he felt a bit lost here. She could very well understand that sensation.

His face lit up when he saw her on the terrace, and Lothíriel hastened down the steps to meet him.

"Brother!" she called out to him in Sindarin – a native tongue for them both. - and when she threw her arms about his neck, he was laughing in delight.

"Sister! It's so good to see you!" he said lightly and lifted her in the air. It was strange to notice that Erchirion, even in holding her up like this, did not possess the skill of making her feel so small as her lord husband did.

When he placed her down again and they weren't laughing anymore, she asked him, "What brings you here, brother? I had no idea we should be expecting you!"

He gave her a broad smile.

"Can't one just visit one's sister? For one, I have piles and piles of letters for you", he answered teasingly, making her roll her eyes, though she was eager for messages from home. Quickly enough he sobered up, "But I do have some formal business here, too. You know Father and King Éomer have had these ongoing negotiations about him lending some Rohirric stallions to breed with our mares. I came here to try and get some kind of a contract finished, though I do not think it will be easy. Your husband is as formidable in bargaining as he is on battlefield."

"The King doesn't do things by halves", she said softly. It was one of the very few things about the King's personality she had discovered so far. One would have thought that after couple of months of marriage, she would have known her spouse a bit better than that. On the other hand, it was hard to get closer to him when they hardly spoke to each other. The thought troubled her more than she could have expected, but once more she reminded herself he had not married her because he wanted her friendship or company.

"Is he home, Lothíriel?" Erchirion asked, causing her wandering thoughts to return to the present moment.

"He rode to Westfold a few days ago, but he should be back by tomorrow", she answered and smiled at her brother once more. She didn't need him knowing about her uneasy musings, because then he'd just go tattling to Father, making their sire doubt whether he had made a mistake in proposing this marriage in the first place.

So she linked her arm with that of her brother and pulled at him gently.

"Come along, brother. We will get you settled down, and then I expect you to tell me the latest gossip of Dol Amroth."

When Erchirion had washed and had a change of clothes, and the knights he had been travelling with had been looked after, Lothíriel was finally able to sit down with her brother in Queen's Solar. Gytha brought them tea and scones dripping with honey and fresh butter, and the two siblings spent the better part of an hour talking about all things small and large that had been going on in Dol Amroth. With a smile on his face, Erchirion related family news and anecdotes on their brother Amrothos' most recent tomfoolery. As a result, Lothíriel found her own spirits lifted, and she laughed long and heartily at her older sibling's words. It felt good to share laughs with a family member after these busy months.

But eventually, a strange look came to the face of her brother and he considered her unlike before now.

"Is something wrong, Erchirion?" she asked him and put down her cup of tea. The set of dishes was fine porcelain from Dol Amroth, meant for her personal use; with a good-humoured smile, Gytha had reported the astonishment of the kitchen staff when they had first seen these pieces. Apparently they hadn't seen anything like before now.

"I was just thinking... sister, does Éomer treat you badly?" he asked in a quiet, low voice.

Hearing his question, she blinked in bewilderment. For a second, she even thought it was supposed to be some kind of a joke, but his expression remained absolutely serious.

"What? How can you ask that?" Lothíriel asked, unable to keep her voice from rising.

"Well, you seem paler and thinner than the last I saw you. And I know you didn't marry him because you are in love with the man, but still... at least I thought this is what you wanted", her brother said carefully, and even in her dismay, she could see he was watching closely for her reaction.

"Brother, I appreciate your concern, but this is really none of your business. My lord husband is perfectly fine and even if I had complaints, I would deal with it _myself._ I am not a child you have to look out for, Erchirion, and I do not need you meddling with mine and his private life", she said in a loud, firm tone. She couldn't let her brother entertain this idea any longer, or let such a doubt live and grow, because if she did, then it would mean she was a failure. And just after two months! She had not come here to be regarded as a disappointment, especially not by her own family members.

Perhaps there was something ferocious about her voice or her expression, because Erchirion seemed to grow smaller somehow, and he lifted his hands in a disarming gesture.

"Fine, fine. I didn't mean to upset you, Lothíriel. I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself, and you wouldn't have done any of this if you couldn't take it. But you are my only sister, and I know life here in Rohan is different from what we are used to. I just want to know you are all right", he said, his expression reconciling.

"Of course I'm all right. Yes, this land is different, but I am adjusting to it. I am a queen now, Erchirion. And I don't think my lord husband would appreciate it either, if you went around implying this alliance is not a good one. You don't want him to get angry with you, do you, brother? Especially when you are supposed to be here to finalise the negotiations between him and our father?" she asked him stiffly, and Erchirion blinked and looked surprised.

"Sister, you are absolutely fierce", he said at length, his features holding a curious mixture of embarrassment and disarming warmth.

"What did you expect? I married the King of Rohan", she said, still somewhat stiff. Even then, it made her brother smile slightly, and she thought she had managed to convince him.

Fortunately, Erchirion did not resume to the topic after that. Instead, they proceeded to talk about her time so far in this land, and what it was like to see the everyday life of Rohirrim.

But late that night when Lothíriel had gone to bed and the lonely quiet of the bedchamber fell on her, she couldn't help but think about her brother's words. Did she really seem so unhappy to him? At least, past few months she had been too busy to really consider whether she was content or not, and in any case she never forgot this was what she had chosen.

Worse yet, did the King and the household think she was not satisfied? Lothíriel always tried to show them a smiling face and to keep up high spirits. Meduseld was the heart of Rohan; thus, she wanted it to be a light, wholesome place that shined in the centre of this realm – a court that welcomed guests, stood strong in times of strife, and gave warmth to those who needed it. But if there was a seed of doubt in the very core of this Hall, then surely all her efforts were doomed to fail.

Restlessly she turned and worried her lip. Whatever King Éomer thought, he wasn't telling it to her. Why was he always so quiet? Did it mean he was never going to warm up to her? Maybe she was a disappointment to him, and he regretted marrying her... at the very least, it would have been nice to know if he thought well of her. And she remembered how keenly she had tried to win his trust, but how was _she_ to trust _him_ when she couldn't say she even knew him?

Frowning to herself, she wondered why this seemed so important all of a sudden. After all, she had gone through these past few months as well as one could have hoped for. In irritation she turned again, hoping she could somehow go back and shut Erchirion's mouth before he could bring up the blasted idea. What right did he have to meddle with her private life, or plant these misgivings in her head? Everything had been going fairly well, and maybe it was exactly as the King wanted it. He could be entirely happy to just have her at the background, taking care of his home and household, and keep the hearth and the bed warm for him.

Pulling her legs close to her chest, she tried to comfort herself by thinking of future. Perhaps her lord husband would learn to at least appreciate her, if not like her, once she had given him an heir. Wasn't that men like him desperately expected of their wives? It could be they would never grow closer or friendlier than this, but at least she knew she would love his children.

With this thought in mind, she was able to banish her doubts and calm down enough to doze off.

It felt like she had scarcely fallen asleep when a sudden noise woke her up. The night couldn't be very late yet, seeing how dark it was. She startled to sit up, thinking she would see one of the servants or a guard there, perhaps to bring her some urgent news that couldn't wait until morning... however, what she saw was her lord husband with a candle in his hand.

Lothíriel blinked, wondering if she was dreaming after all. As far as she knew, the King wasn't expected back tonight, yet there he was; he stopped next to a table and left the candle there, while he began to pull off his boots.

"My lord", she stammered in surprise, and he looked up at her, "I thought you weren't supposed to arrive until tomorrow."

For the briefest moment, she thought she could see a smile on his face in soft candlelight. But how could that be, when he had never actually smiled at her?

"I decided to come home early, and spend the night next to my lovely wife, rather than alone and cold by the side of the road."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here is an update at last! Christmas really messed up my writing schedule, so it took a while to get this chapter done. I hope you like it! **  
**

The bit about Oromë and Vána and their relation to Rohirric wedding ceremonies are inspired by tumblr posts by anthropologyarda. They talk lengthily about headcanons for Rohirric belief system, which I found rather interesting. As we know so little about Rohirrim and their traditions, I took the liberty of inventing the idea that in the ceremony, the bridegroom stands for Béma, and the bride presents Lǽs _(_ name was invented by anthropologyarda). I shall provide links at my own tumblr; as you know, this site doesn't allow direct links. So, if anyone is interested, go and see the links at my blog!

As always, I'm delighted to receive your comments and likes!

* * *

 **Rinarwen -** Thank you! And your comments are always appreciated. :) I do mean to take it a bit farther than this, so no worries!

 **eschscholzia -** Hope you liked this update too!

 **Tibblets -** Thank you!

 **EStrunk -** Glad to hear that! I'm afraid he remains something of a mystery to her right now. We'll see what she'll have to do in order to crack up his walls!

 **ctipps3 -** Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad to hear my stories manage to find such new angles. And that is what I aim for, as I don't think anyone would want to read the same story over and over again!

 **MadamX -** I hope the new adventure satisfies! :)

 **sailor68 -** We'll see about that! :) I'm glad you liked it!

 **Rachetg -** And that is precisely what she did!

 **Anon -** Oh, he's hardly so unwilling! It's just in this version, he's a bit tougher nut to crack. In any case, they are both acting on what they think is their duty, regardless if it's depressing or not.

 **EugeniaVictoria -** I'm glad you liked her! And to me it's fascinating to explore Lothíriel from this angle, as a person with strong desire for life, and for becoming more than just a daughter or wife of some lord.

 **Katia0203 -** I had rather thought the same. It's interesting to examine them as people who have a strong sense of duty and are not so resigned to go along with it. And I agree about Imrahil - I've always imagined as a loving father. He may make mistakes some time in my stories, but I think that just makes him more human, and that behind it, he's always a person who cares deeply for his children.


	3. A Companion for the Lord

**A Companion for the Lord**

The hour was close to dawn when Lothíriel felt her lord husband stirring next to her. She had been fast asleep and dreaming of trying to find something in her father's palace, but it came to a close when the King moved by her side. She cracked open one eye and saw him sitting up, running a hand through his tangled hair and yawning profusely. Then he got up and sauntered sleepily towards the washing chamber, stretching as he went. His air was so unlike his usual quiet but assertive confidence that she had to blink, as if to make sure the nude man moving about in the chamber was really her husband and not some stranger who had wandered in and got in bed with her. Somehow, it almost seemed _endearing._

The sudden thought was so bewildering that she snapped wide awake. Where had that come from? True, ever since the night the King had unexpectedly returned and announced he'd rather sleep in his own bed next to his lovely wife, his manner had been gentler towards her than ever before. She had no idea of what had caused the shift in his treatment of her, and she didn't know how to ask. Be it as may, ever since he had started to touch her more often and there was warmth in his voice when he spoke to her – such warmth as she had not heard until now.

She sat up in the bed, unsure of how to feel. _I'm still half asleep,_ she told herself and rubbed her eyes.

The King appeared once more from the washing chamber, now looking like he was fully awake. To her sleepy eyes, he seemed surprised when he saw her sitting up in the bed.

"My lady, it is only dawn. You needn't wake up yet", he spoke in a low, soft tone, as though afraid to disturb the peace of the early hour.

"Is everything all right, my lord?" she asked him, though she knew he rarely slept past the sunrise.

"Of course. I was merely thinking of going for my morning ride", he answered; these days, dawn was often the only time he could go and take his usual turn to the plains around the capital.

Her lord husband pulled on some clothes and she thought he would head out, but unexpectedly he came around the bed to her side, and halted there. Lothíriel looked warily at him and wondered what he was thinking – for the thousandth time, it seemed – when he picked up her hand. Then, as she grew more bewildered, he planted a quick but not ungentle kiss on her knuckles.

"I will see you later. Rest, my queen."

Before she could react or say anything, he had already dropped her hand and was striding for the door, leaving behind a rather bewildered wife. In silence, Lothíriel stared after the broad back of the King and tried to decide what to make of this.

Perhaps, after all, he _did_ care.

* * *

That same day, Lothíriel received her very first invitation to have tea together with one local lady. She was Captain Éothain's wife, Lady Scýne – a tall, red-haired woman with green eyes and a ready smile. She was arrayed in bright green and her woven belt was blue as the sky, and next to her, the young queen felt oddly colourless in her pearl-grey dress and belt wrought of silver. Back home, white and grey and silver had always been her preferred colours, but here in this land of green and gold, she felt like a pale, unattractive thing.

But she forgot about her sudden insecurity when Scýne gave her a warm smile and inquired if she would be interested in joining her for afternoon tea, and seeing the day was not a particularly busy one, Lothíriel happily agreed. Maybe this was her chance to finally make a friend.

They walked together to where Scýne and her husband had their house, trailed by a few royal guards, who came along more out of formality than the actual need; on the way, most they talked about was weather and differences between climates of Dol Amroth and Rohan. But once they were seated inside the sunny little solar that belonged to Scýne herself and was as rich in colours as its owner, Lothíriel felt brave enough to ask a bit more personal question.

"How long have you been married to Captain Éothain?" she inquired the red-haired woman. Scýne had already insisted her to drop the title, though she wasn't apparently going to do the same immediately.

"It's been four years now. But we knew each other long before that, my lady – both our families come from Aldburg", she answered with a slight smile.

"But you are living in Edoras now", Lothíriel noted the obvious.

"Aye. When Éomer became king, we knew we would have to move here if Éothain was to continue as a captain. And to be honest, I don't think my husband can imagine doing or being anything else. So we left to establish a new life here. It wasn't hard, thankfully – our society is small enough and we already knew many people who live in the capital. When Éothain is away with the King, I often go to visit my family and relatives back in Aldburg", Scýne answered, speaking away in effortless Westron. She had a pleasant voice with a musical tone to it, and Lothíriel thought one could easily have listened to her for hours.

"Do you miss your old home, though?" she asked as she lifted her cup of tea – herbs picked wild from meadows, perhaps, or from a small patch of kitchen orchard.

"Sometimes. Fortunately, life can be very busy here at the capital, so most days I don't even remember to miss days gone by. Of course, things were in many ways simpler then, and a position as the wife of King's second in command is more prestigious than I had guessed. But we have peace now, and whenever I send Éothain on his way, I'm not so painfully afraid whether he will come back", said the captain's wife, and a small frown visited her face. But then she smiled again and pushed the plate of warm scones closer to her royal guest.

"He must be good friends with my lord husband", Lothíriel noted carefully, sensing a chance to learn a bit more about the King.

"That they are, my lady. Éothain has been his right hand for a long time now, and before that they trained in the same éored. They practically grew up together, for Éothain's father rode with Lord Éomund, and so my husband was always running about the Marshal's Hall when he was a lad. I gather those two boys got into a lot of trouble together!" Scýne said and let out a soft little laugh, but it died quickly, as though she had remembered some dark memory. Indeed, she went on in a more serious tone, "And after Marshal Éomund died, Éomer... well, he more or less lived at Éothain's house."

Hearing that last sentence, Lothíriel looked quizzically at the red-haired woman.

"Why is that?" she wanted to know, wrapped up in this tale so that she hardly remembered her tea anymore. Somehow, she felt like glimpsing through stained glass into another time.

Scýne hesitated for a second before answering, and when she did, she spoke in a low voice, as though she was betraying some kind of a secret.

"My lady, he looked so much like his late father that his mother couldn't bear to see his face", she said, her brow creasing as her expression grew uneasy.

The young queen stared at the Eorling lady in a mixture of wonder and horror. Scýne probably guessed right away what was going through her mind, and so she continued quickly, "She loved his father very dearly. But people say Princess Théodwyn was frail, too, and troubled at times. Lord Éomund's death broke her heart and she was never the same afterwards. In fact, she died before the year ended."

Up until now, Lothíriel had learned little of her lord husband's early life. Well, she had known his parents had died when he had been young, but she hadn't guessed the story would hold so much tragedy. Suddenly, a wave of heart-wrenching sympathy went through her. To endure something like that as a young lad! No wonder he was so shut inside his walls.

"But he was just a child! It's not his fault if he looked like his father", she managed to speak at last. Lothíriel felt almost _angry_ at the long dead princess – to first treat one's own son like that, and then pass away, when her children most needed her... she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down and reminded herself it had all happened many years ago, and she couldn't judge someone she had never even met.

"Of course not. I'm not saying it's right what happened or that Éomer was somehow to blame for his mother's decline. Éothain spent years telling him that very thing. Lady Lǽs might know if he ever actually believed it... pain like that isn't easily forgotten", Scýne said and shook her head. Then she looked straight at the young queen again, "But perhaps it helps you understand him a bit more. If he seems withdrawn sometimes, it's not because of you."

After that, there seemed to be a shared understanding to move on to other topics. So they did, talking more about Rohan and its people, Scýne was glad to provide an answer to whatever questions she had in mind, and the red-haired woman spared no amusing anecdotes about her the fierce folk of Riders that lived in this land. Through those stories, the young queen learned there was so much more to the Rohirrim than she had thought before. Though they were warriors, they also had a sense of humour and an understanding for sweet, delicate things. They were a people who had a passion for living, and they loved this green land and their songs and stories. Even if they were young in the reckoning of years, their bravery, sincerity and frankness was unmatched. And when Lothíriel left the house of the captain and his lady, she felt hopeful and thought she had indeed managed to make a friend. At least, she wouldn't mind having afternoon tea with Scýne again some time soon.

That pleasant thought aside, Lothíriel thought she had received plenty for thought that afternoon, and like she had hoped, it gave her a new insight to the character of her lord husband. For the first since the had met him and taken him for a man who simply didn't do well with people, Lothíriel considered perhaps it was something else altogether. Maybe it all was just too many years of self-blame and unhappiness, even fear that old tragedy might repeat itself if he opened up to others. However, as long as he did not confirm it one way or the other, she could only guess.

It happened she came across the very man and her brother in the courtyard of the Golden Hall. Erchirion was arrayed in his riding attire, and she guessed they had just returned from inspecting the royal herds – no doubt the King had wanted to make sure their guest would not be leaving the capital without making some kind of a deal with the horselords.

With a smile, she approached the two men.

"Sister! There you are", Erchirion said and smiled as well when he saw her. "Your husband is a most cruel man! He just took me to see some of the finest horses I've ever seen my entire life, but now he's telling me I can't even be expecting a discount for the sake of family relations!"

"Don't look at me, brother! You know Father would never be selling one of his beloved ships for any less than it's worth, and Mother would never have presumed to try to make him think otherwise", she told him brightly, trying not to look at her lord husband, though she could feel his eyes on her.

"Hmph! I am most disappointed, sister", Erchirion said, shaking his head.

"Well, don't blame me for your fancy that the Queen of Rohan would come to your help in the matter of giving up horses!" she said in good humour. But there was some excitement too, because curiosity had woken in her, and she couldn't help but wonder what these words, however jokingly shared, made the King think.

She stole a glimpse of his face and saw him regarding her, but as ever, his expression was guarded. Any other day she might have left it at that, but the conversation with Lady Scýne still lived at the back of her mind, and it was that which inspired her following action.

Maybe there was no easy way of getting inside his head, or taking a stab at his ever-present walls. But there were some things she could do... some things that might just reassure him that whatever griefs and regrets lay behind, she could be trusted not to become one of them.

So she gave them another smile and spoke, "I must get going, if the household is to get any dinner tonight. I will see you later."

She patted Erchirion's shoulder and then turned towards her lord husband. He didn't seem to expect it when she took his hand in her own and gave it a pull, gentle but with some command. Though by now she knew the feel of his hands, it was different to hold it in her own – hard, strong fingers that felt like iron made flesh. As if knowing what she wanted, he leaned down enough for her to tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

Then, before the man could react, Lothíriel let him go and headed for the Hall, and in her breast there was a strange flutter that did not fall quiet until much later that afternoon.

And when night came that day and the King joined her in the bed, she did not wait for him to reach for her. Instead, she turned to him as soon as he had lain next to her, her hands shy and uncertain as though she was touching him for the first time. When her lips found his in the dark, she could feel the faintest intake of breath, but the answer came quickly and fiercely.

She was glad, because at least here, in this dark hour, she could feel something more from him than just walls and quiet.

* * *

About a week later, Erchirion was happy to announce he and the King had reached an understanding that satisfied them both. In the quiet of her thoughts, Lothíriel was not equally happy to hear this announcement, for she knew it meant he would be going home. For a while, her brother had lit up this place in a way she had not known to expect, and once he was gone, she would miss her family all the more. Thankfully, she would at least have the company of Lady Scýne now; her hopes for befriending the red-haired woman had not been in vain, and the captain's wife dropped by in the Golden Hall every now and then.

But she kept her silence and merely smiled at her brother when he told her he would be heading home in a few days, and promised to make sure he and his company would have enough provisions for the journey. At night, she was busy finishing her letters for family members back in Dol Amroth.

The morning of his planned departure came all too soon, and through breakfast Lothíriel felt like there was a dagger digging its way deeper and deeper into her chest. Even then, she kept up a brave, smiling face; if Erchirion saw through it, he made no such implication. Perhaps she had convinced him indeed on the day he had first arrived in Edoras, and he had made his worried remarks about her marital happiness.. Or he had understood he would have been overstepping if he interfered with her and the King's private life. At least, it didn't seem like any word of it had reached her lord husband's ears.

As much as she would have liked to prolong the breakfast, eventually her brother began to shift anxiously, until he stated he should be on his way already if he and his company intended to get anywhere today. So she smiled and said she'd just go and change her shoes, and then see to him to the road.

King Éomer appeared as if from nowhere when they came to the terrace, speaking his own words of farewell in those low, solemn tones she had come to know. At least, there was also camaraderie in his voice that only those he considered his friends would ever receive. He rested a hand on Erchirion's shoulder, until Lothíriel came with the cup of parting, and her brother drank deep from the golden vessel.

"Have a safe journey, brother. Give my love to the family", she whispered in his ear when they hugged, and it demanded much not to cry when she had to let go of him.

"Be well, sister", he said to her with a smile, and after nodding at the King, he started down the steps of the Golden Hall. Lothíriel wrapped her arms around her midsection and watched her brother go.

Suddenly, just when Erchirion was mounting his steed, she could feel a hand falling on her shoulder. Sharply she turned her head, only to see the King standing close by, with his hand on her. She blinked in confusion and opened her mouth to say something, but no word came out.

"I am sorry he couldn't stay longer", he said quietly, meeting her gaze in that keen, vehement fashion of his. How could someone be so reserved and yet so heady at the same time? The man was a puzzle she thought she'd never comprehend.

"He has his life back in Gondor", she simply stated, looking down before he could see the blush that was sure to appear any moment now on her cheeks. Did the King even know how much he confused her?

"Aye. And your life is here. I know it is a privilege I have not deserved, my lady", King Éomer suddenly said, and her head snapped up, more bewildered than ever. For a brief moment, she felt like that night he had come home early, and she had thought she could see him smiling in the darkness. Was she glimpsing the real person who hid behind all those walls, and all those stories?

Before she could say anything, he lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

"You look beautiful today, my Queen", he stated in a peculiar mixture of gruffness and warmth only he seemed to be capable of.

Then, as she was still trying to comprehend what had just happened, he was already striding back inside the Hall.

 _Oh dear._ There came that blush, just as she had expected.

* * *

Rainy days in Edoras were different than in Dol Amroth. By the sea, rains came fast and violent, but her two and a half months in Rohan rather implied there was a wide variance between every weather. It could be a proper pour-down, or a storm that seemed just about ready to tear down the capital, or a gentle grey drizzle that went on from dawn till dusk. Today, it was precisely that sort, and Lothíriel had spent most of the day by a fire in the Queen's Solar, catching up with her correspondence and writing down some orders for merchants in Dol Amroth. Only yesterday, she had heard her lord husband muttering to one of his Riders how dull food had been the last winter, and she had decided to make sure he'd be in for a surprise this year – at least, if he expected the issue of tasteless food to continue.

She had emerged from her warm little nest for her afternoon lesson with the King's Minstrel, who had promised to teach her the song of Helm Hammerhand today. It was something that had surprised her in the start, when she had begun to learn about the history of Rohan, though perhaps it shouldn't have. She had thought to receive a multitude of long lessons, the way she had been taught by her old schoolmasters. However, much of the lessons until now had consisted of songs, because that was how Rohirrim preserved their past. It was strange and fascinating and she couldn't say she disliked it. Often during her daily life she would hear these songs her teacher had first presented to her, sung by people around her. She might pass a kitchen maid singing about Théodwyn the Fair, or a Doorward humming to himself about Fréaláf Hildeson. One of her maids, the girl named Guthild, was an expert on songs about Eorl the Young, which she had learned from her great-grandmother. Sometimes, she would be singing them in the Hall for an eager audience. And Lothíirel understood: music was in the blood of her new people.

Most of the time, her lessons were conducted in the great Hall, as Swidhelm the King's Minstrel claimed it was the only place in Edoras he could sing the great songs of the Kings of Rohan properly. And more often than not, it would gather an audience around them, until Gytha would arrive and shoo everyone back to their labours. But Swidhelm's song would rise to the high rafters of the Hall, and in shadows and half-lights of Meduseld Lothíriel felt like she could almost see those kings of days gone by, hear their voices and their laughter, and sense their presence in this House where Eorl's heirs had lived and died.

Gytha was with Lothíriel, taking down orders for next week's luncheon she would be organising for noble ladies of the court. Apparently, no one had heard of the queen doing such a thing before she had come here as the King's bride; back home in Dol Amroth, Mother had frequently hosted ladies of Belfalas. She had sometimes said it was just as important to keep them happy as it was to maintain a good relationship with the lords of the land. And perhaps, if she managed to win the wives and kinswomen of the mighty men of the Mark on her side, then all Eorlingas would eventually come to regard her as their own queen.

Lothíriel and her company of her chatelaine and two maids was halfway through the Hall when the twin doors of the Hall were opened, and a rain-soaked Rider came inside. Judging by his appearance, one might have thought he had swam here instead of riding.

It happened so the King was present at the time, sitting at one table with a couple of his friends around him. There sat the Captain Éothain, his second in command and most trusted companion, and Marshal Elfhelm who had served as a commander for many years. All three of them looked up when the doors opened and the Rider came, and the King got up on his feet when his name was called.

The Rider spoke fast in Rohirric, and Lothíriel was close enough to hear the conversation. However, the words were exchanged so rapidly she quickly fell behind, and she was trapped in that uncomprehending feeling she hated more and more as days passed without her grasp of Rohirric improving.

The King answered, his voice sharp and loud. He stood straight and grim like a gleaming blade, and his anger was as though a coat of mail about him. It was a vaguely alarming thing to see.

"What are they talking about?" she whispered to Gytha, anxious to know what this conversation was about.

"Lord Erkenbrand sent the Rider", the chatelaine whispered back, leaning closer to the young queen, "He speaks of a certain scoundrel who has gone around in the West-Mark, claiming to be Théodred Prince and accusing the King of stealing his throne. Erkenbrand says this villain and his band recently robbed a village in Westfold, but the Riders from Hornburg were unable to track them down. The King is very angry."

Lothíriel looked sharply at the chatelaine. This was grave news!

"Why haven't I heard about this?" she asked the older woman, and the look of surprise on Gytha's face took her aback.

"But my lady, I thought the King had disclosed it to you already", Gytha answered, her words inflaming Lothíriel's dismay even further.

For the first time during her time in Rohan, she couldn't find the slightest bit from her education and knowledge that would guide her now. No answer came to her mind, not even an idea of how she should react. She stood silently, staring at the figure of her husband, and feeling strangely betrayed.

Eventually, when she was able to speak, she formed the words stiffly, "Please inform Swidhelm we won't be having our lesson today. I don't feel so well. I think I need to lay down for a bit."

She turned around, not waiting for Gytha's response. Swiftly she walked, heading for the royal chambers, and it took the very last inch of her self-control to get there without breaking her act.

Once she reached the security of the royal apartment, her breaths came as shallow gasps. A sob was trying to fight its way out, but she gritted her teeth against it. In an attempt to calm herself down, she first washed her face with cold water, then scrubbed it, and eventually she just went for the flask of strong liquor she knew her husband had hidden inside a drawer next to the bed. She gulped down a hearty amount, coughing as the liquid burned her throat and stomach. But she welcomed the fire and the warmth that began to spread into her limbs, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. There she sat counting her breaths until her mind calmed and the pain of last five minutes began to subside – or, at least, became a bit easier to handle.

Lothíriel got up on her feet again and she began to pace, her mind fast at work. This was what she had feared: becoming a pretty ornament for some lord, living her days ignorant of what happened in the realm and the world. It would have been easy to blame her lord husband for it and maybe he was partly at fault. But then, perhaps she could have done more... perhaps Meduseld was a place where one needed to elbow their way in, if one wanted to be a part of things. She couldn't expect anyone to just give her what she wanted. And her feeble grasp of Rohirric surely did not help. How could she know anything, or _be_ anything if she didn't even know the tongue of this land? No one would regard her a strong queen if she had no voice. And as long as she remained without one, no whispers would reach her ears, and the King would never regard her an asset.

She had to learn, and quick. And she needed to get the attention of her lord husband – elbow her way in, if that was necessary.

Lothíriel halted before her dressing table and gazed at her reflection. The face staring back seemed pale and distressed, but the grey eyes had not yet lost their spark.

"I won't give up. I refuse to be a failure", she said to the white-faced woman in the mirror, as though she could will her into a more powerful individual.

She could be just that. Father had known it, and she did too. How else would she have become the Queen of Rohan?

* * *

The King's timing was favourable to her: when he came, she was calm and resolute again, and she had mastered her anxiety and hurt. When he appeared at the door and she looked up, she thought he seemed concerned.

"My lady", he spoke with the faintest note of urgency, "Gytha said you were not feeling well. Are you ill? Should I send for a healer?"

"No, my lord. I'm feeling better already. Whatever it was, it has passed now", Lothíriel said with a faint little smile.

"Good. I was worried you had become sick, my lady. It would be a very unhappy thing", he said and nodded his head at her, looking like he was already preparing some word of parting to make his exit.

 _Elbow your way in,_ she thought to herself again, and Lothíriel stood up from her seat next to the fireplace.

"My lord, I wanted to talk to you", she said, her voice coming out louder than she had intended.

He halted, looking surprised as though she had suddenly announced some exceedingly bizarre news. Warily he regarded her, "What is it, lady wife?"

"That Rider who arrived before", Lothíriel started carefully, hoping that her question would not be driving him into a corner or make him shut down. She had to try. So she went on, "Gytha said Lord Erkenbrand sent him. She told me there is a man, claiming to be Théodred Prince."

The King frowned and looked away from her. But if this was a sign he didn't like her asking this thing, she couldn't say.

"Aye, there is such a man. He has been raiding in the West-Mark for some weeks now. Of course, his claims are utter nonsense, but he is cunning and so far he has eluded all the attempts to capture him", he answered at length, and Lothíriel relaxed. At least, he wasn't going to turn her down completely.

"So, Lord Erkenbrand is trying to catch him?" she asked her spouse.

"Indeed. He reassures me the scoundrel will not be able to avoid his Riders forever, and I trust him. Erkenbrand is very good at what he does", the King said and stared ahead. "And we have time on our side. When the winter comes, this impostor will not have many places left to hide."

"Do you think he's a threat to the throne?" Lothíriel asked. The longer this conversation went on, the more confident she felt. _This_ was what she had been waiting for: hearing her husband speak to her of his concerns, learning about Rohan through his eyes, and perhaps learning about _him_ in the process, too.

"Not really. He has only a few supporters, and those are more interested in raiding than actually trying to dethrone me in his favour. Anyone with their wits still about them knows he's nothing more than a liar and a robber. But I should have expected something like this would happen. After all, I am the first of the third line of the Kings of the Mark. It will take some time to establish my rule and convince everyone I will not fail their expectations", he spoke, his voice softer now, and somehow more alive than before. Lothíriel sensed these words came from a much more private place in his thoughts than most things he had said to her until now.

"And I am sure you will do just that, lord husband. There is no possible way this so called Théodred Prince can prevail against you", she stated firmly. He looked at her in silence, and she thought his features, usually so reticent and sharp when she was around, had become much gentler.

Encouraged by this, she spoke further, "My lord, why haven't you told me about this before now? Surely the Queen should know of the challenges her King is facing?"

He blinked in surprise and for a moment, she felt like his walls were gone, stripped away by the words he had not expected. He coughed and looked away, as though to get a grip on himself once more.

"My lady, I didn't realise you had interest in the matters of the realm", he said at length, his voice thinner than usual.

"But my lord, they are of utmost interest to me. I am your Queen consort, am I not?" she pointed out.

"That you are, lady wife", he agreed, looking away again. Then he straightened and met her gaze, seeming more collected now. "I shall try to mend my ways, and keep you better informed of goings in this land."

It was that easy! She felt like she could leap from her seat and kiss him, but she kept her reaction minimal. The man might just quail if his wife suddenly jumped on him without a warning.

"I would appreciate it very much", she said with a smile that was utterly, heart-warmingly genuine. And for the tiniest second, she thought she could see it answered on his solemn, strong face.

The blush came as if on its own and it was her turn to cough. Quickly she spoke, "My lord, what of the tour of the land? Do you mean to postpone it until this villain has been taken care of?"

"No, my lady. To postpone it would mean I consider him a more serious threat than he is. I shall not give him that power, or deny my people the first glimpse of their queen. I have had reports they are all very much looking forward to seeing you. Don't worry about this impostor, my queen – the royal entourage will be quite safe, and he would have to be out of his mind to make an attack against it", the King answered. Did she just imagine it or did he actually sound more relaxed than ever since the first time they had spoken to one another? She would rather have liked to make that assumption, but Lothíriel decided she had already made enough progress for one day.

"Very well. How soon will we depart?" she asked him, and whether or not she had been right in thinking he was being more casual than she had ever seen him with her, she did allow her own figure grow a bit more easy.

"I believe three weeks should be enough time to prepare", the King said, running his hand through his hair and sauntered slowly through the room. He glanced at her, "Talk to Gytha. She'll know what to do."

"I will do that, my lord", she answered with a curtsy, more or less to signal she was satisfied with their conversation. And she _was,_ because for the first time, she felt like they had spoken to one another as king and queen of this land. Perhaps there was hope for this union yet.

The King nodded at her and now she was certain he was smiling. And what a smile it was! At once, she was certain he could have gone and conquered the entire Gondorian court, had he just wanted. But at this point, she couldn't say if he was aware of that fact at all.

"I shall see you at dinner, my lady."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here's an update! Hope you enjoyed it. :)

Turns out I couldn't make it just three chapters, like I originally intended. Who's surprised? I guess I should know by now not to make statements like that!

I know many of you, my dear readers, would like to see Éomer opening up already and them talking to one another about their feelings. But I'm afraid it all has to happen in its own time! Hopefully, this chapter at least gives some light on why he's so withdrawn towards her, but also show some progress towards better communication between them.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **eschscholzia -** Yes, he does recognise he would be doing no favours to Lothíriel if he just took it to his own hands. I guess he realised he needs to let them settle this between one another.

I'm glad you liked that bit! :) I'm afraid it has to stay a mystery for the time being.

 **Anon -** Oh, I'm not sure it's as simple as that!

 **PadfootCc -** Glad you liked it! I think Erchirion realised it wouldn't be right to meddle, especially when his sister tells him to stand back.

 **EStrunk -** It may seem so, but perhaps there's more going on with him than he lets on. I'll have to let the story to explain that, though! As for Erchirion confronting him, Lothíriel's outburst makes him understand it wouldn't be right for him to get involved.

 **Guest -** Thank you! And he will, when the time is right! ;)

 **finantheagile -** Thanks! I'm afraid he'll have to do this in his own way and time!

 **Anthi35 -** Thank you! Actually, I'm rather regretting I didn't write the entire wedding ceremony. But on the other hand, I had a feeling there are enough of those already, and anyway this isn't supposed to be like my longer stories.

 **Jo -** Thank you! :)

 **Guest -** Glad to hear that! I rather felt those months between their betrothal and the wedding weren't relevant to the story, and I'm trying to keep this from getting out of control. I'm happy to hear I've managed to do those things well! And thanks for the compliment on my English. :) I know it's not perfect, so if you feel like it, you can always point out my mistakes to me!

 **FriendLey -** Personally, I don't have "a preferred way". Them falling in love quickly is as good to me as it happening slowly! But we all have our personal taste.

I can't really say whether there will be such content - I don't want to spoil the story. But what I can tell is I don't think we'll get Éomer's point in this one. My whole idea for this story is - if that's not revealing too much - for us to get to know him as Lothíriel does, and seeing him through her eyes. I rather want to keep these questions, what is he thinking? Why isn't he talking to her? Where is this relationship going? And answer them for Lothíriel as well as for the readers.

 **sailor68 -** It has to happen in its own time! :) We'll see!

 **Guest -** I can't really say anything to that, except that I will let the story answer! Anyway, I'm glad you think this isn't just one of many similar versions! :) Means a lot to me.


	4. A Lady for the Land

**A Lady for the Land**

Over the following days, an orderly chaos broke out in the Golden Hall. Preparations for the royal tour were started, and their magnitude soon took Lothíriel by surprise. Not that she hadn't expected it wouldn't take a lot of managing, but she had never planned such a thing or realised the sheer amount of people that would have to be moved and fed. Thankfully, Gytha had a better idea of what efforts this would require of them, and soon the two women were neck-deep in preparations.

"My lady, it's been almost ten years since Théoden King toured the land for the last time. So you must not wonder if everyone seems to go a little mad, both here and in the villages you're about to visit. It's just they're excited. And it's been such a long time we had any reason to really celebrate", Gytha told her early into the preparations, which Lothíriel later on decided was a good thing to know. It surely helped her to put everything in its right perspective on those moments it seemed like people were getting ready for the arrival of Oromë himself instead of a royal tour.

The royal entourage would indeed require a lot of planning to function properly on the way. For one, it wouldn't consist just of the King and Queen and their Guard, but also of several royal advisers and at least one Marshal. Some nobles from the capital would come along as well, and a few of them would bring their wives or other family members. Most of them brought their own servants and household members, and a number of stablehands would be required to look after the horses. This company would require shelter for poorer weathers and nights they would spend camping, and the towns they would visit were not going to be able to house every traveller in the entourage. Apparently the King would also have to be able to entertain on the road; so, instead of a simple sleeping tent like the rest of the entourage, they needed an entire pavilion and portable furniture to fill it.

Then there was the question of feeding them all: horses could graze on the plains, but people couldn't live on grass. The food would have to be good, nourishing things, and preparing them required kitchen utensils, and it all had to run smoothly for the days on the road. Moreover, all kinds of necessary little objects would have to be taken along, from as small as needles to pots so big a young lad could hide there.

As if this wasn't enough, Lothíriel also had to make sure both herself and the King would be able to appropriately present themselves at various occasions, from the days of travel to holding court and participating feasts – apparently, it was inevitable they would have to attend a few of them, as Eorling lords were sure to compete which one of them could give the royal couple the best welcome. Gytha fondly noted the Lord of the Mark himself wouldn't probably even notice it if he appeared to hold a court of justice in his armour.

"But thanks to you, my lady", she said with a smile, "there is a chance people will actually know their king when they see him."

"Well", Lothíriel said at length, "I always thought it couldn't be more obvious who he is even if it was written across his forehead."

She thought of the night she had first met him, and how she had wondered at the sheer amount of man. Somehow, she felt like even if the Citadel had been full of Riders when they had made their acquaintance, she would still have guessed which one was the King of Rohan.

The young queen shook her head then and smiled at the chatelaine, "Come along, Gytha. We still need to make sure we have enough canvas for tents."

At last came the day they were set to leave the capital. Thankfully, the young queen and the chatelaine had been able to arrange everything in time, and unless something unexpected happened, things should run smoothly while they travelled.

Usually, it was Lothíriel who bore the cup of mead for those departing, but as she was joining the entourage this time, Gytha was the one to send them on their way. She gave the cup first to the King and then to the Queen. She would also be taking care of the Golden Hall while the royal couple was away, and remain prepared in case their escort required something while they journeyed.

And so they left the capital and rode along the Great West Road, through hills and vales, and the plains of Rohan were green and glorious in high summer. They passed by fields ripening in the golden sun and great herds of horses, grazing on the rich grass. There were villages on the way, varying from two or three little homesteads to a dozen or more. Upon their approach, people of those villages came to greet them and watch them pass. Sometimes, the King would have the company stopping so that he could converse with the common folk and what chiefs they had among themselves. Many of these were not a wealthy people, but she knew the true riches of Rohirrim were not hidden in boxes and treasure chests. And even a simple farmer rode a horse that would have been prized in the stables of her father in south.

Eventually, they reached one of the larger towns of this grassy realm, and were welcomed into the Hall of local nobility. Lothíriel soon observed that some of Eorling lords were not easily distinguished from the rest of population – or, at least they had fewer things separating them than nobility and common folk had in Gondor. But she noticed another significant difference: though these people did not have much, they were eager and happy and full of life in a way some of the richest men of Gondor could only dream of being.

She and her lord husband were received with such a warm welcome that it rather overwhelmed her. When meeting with the King, some of the lords acted more like they were reunited with a brother in arms after a long separation, and less like meeting the ruler of this land. But she observed he took no offence in that – rather, he answered the greetings in a like fashion. Before Lothíriel had much time to wonder, she decided it was because these men had probably ridden with him to Gondor and back during the War of the Ring. From the stories of her brothers, she knew how strong was the bond between warriors who had fought and bled together.

As for her and the ladies of the land, Lothíriel felt like the highest Elven queen would not receive a warmer welcome. They seemed rather curious about her too, crowding about her along with their kinswomen and maids. Like her own serving maids on the first morning after the wedding, they admired the fabrics of her clothes, or even asked for a permission to touch her hair, which was neatly braided for the journey. They were also endlessly curious about her old home in Dol Amroth, and Lothíriel was assaulted with so many questions she didn't know how to begin to answer them. It was more than a little overwhelming, to be surrounded by such a lively crowd and listen them to chatter away both in Westron and Rohirric, and some even in a broken mixture of both. She still didn't understand everything, and occasionally she needed help to interpret what was being said, but the days on the road were in fact helpful in improving her grasp of the northern tongue. In the villages and towns they visited, Westron was not so widely known as in Edoras, and the young queen was more or less soaked in the language of her new people.

In the halls they visited, they met lords and common folk alike. Some had come to ask for the King's judgement in this or that matter, or to participate the courts of justice, and others had travelled to see the new queen. Not a few had come simply to enjoy the festive mood, or to make purchases from traders, drawn here by the presence of the royal entourage. As a result, most of the towns they went to were soon packed full with all kinds of travellers.

And though some of the homes they saw along the way were not fine or rich, and several of the lords who hosted them gave up their own bedchambers for her and the King's use, she could sense warmth in every household they stayed at, and not the slightest embarrassment for the conditions they presented to the southern lady. She had first observed it in her lord husband, but since then and meeting more of his people, Lothíriel had noticed there was a natural dignity about many of the Rohirrim one could not buy with jewels and gold.

When she and the King were not together holding a court of justice or giving an audience to the local folk, he would meet with the lords, and the ladies and wives of chieftains in that area would come to the young queen. They had their own concerns, and those were more everyday matters than she had expected. Listening to their pleads and wishes, she realised these women held together this land just as much their husbands and sons did, those fierce riding warriors who were famed for their courage and skill. Some of them even carried battle scars, and she knew Shieldmaidens were not just a story of a distant time. But she also saw the hope beyond the things she was told: that she would speak with the King and sway his mind.

After one of the first such occasions, when she had a brief respite from meetings and dinners in the form of changing gowns, Lothíriel asked her maid about it.

"Why are they so convinced that my lord husband would listen to me?" she wanted to know.

"Well, my lady, you have been married to the King for less than a year, and he is already taking you to tour the land. Doesn't that mean he values you and wants you to learn to know your new people? That he is teaching you so that the Mark will have a ruler even when he needs to ride to war? Surely he appreciates your opinion a great deal, my queen" Guthild stated, looking like this was all quite obvious to her.

Hearing this, Lothíriel fell silent. Was Guthild right then? Was this the King's quiet way of teaching her about ruling – and showing that he did see her potential? She hoped so, at least. In any case, it rather pleased her to think so and she decided she would have to find a way to show him how much she appreciated it.

Like Gytha had told her, the lords of the land did seem to have a competition going on, trying to outdo each other in their welcome of the royal couple. Courtesy also demanded they let themselves be at the centre of the fuss for a bit, which also meant having to participate in a feast in every village they visited.

With all these meetings and audiences and feasts, there was hardly a single moment during the day she was alone. Many nights she was exhausted, and would gladly have skipped the banquets in the favour of a good night's sleep. But courtesy demanded her to stay for a while, and when she collapsed in the bed, her face was hurting from all the smiling and her mind was a bewildered mess for trying to process all the new information, names and people from the day's events. One morning she even asked her husband, "Do you think we will have to do this again soon?"

"Not in a few years, I'd say", he replied as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. Something gentler appeared about his features, "And it should be easier to you by then, my lady."

She nodded and pulled a comb through her hair; certainly, all this would be easier to take in when her command of Rohirric was better and she didn't have to concentrate so hard all the time.

"My uncle hated making the tour, too. I'm starting to see why", he continued in a pensive tone and got up on his feet. He stopped to stand before her and added, "But for the record, I think you are doing very well."

He leaned down to kiss her brow, but she caught him by the front of his tunic and pulled him down into a proper kiss. When he left the chambers soon after, she thought he looked bewildered, and it brought her a curious mixture of bashful pleasure.

And though she didn't tell him so at the time, his statement and belief in her encouraged her a great deal and helped her to get through the long, eventful days.

Something was happening to them. But Lothíriel was not yet sure of what that something _was._

* * *

The day on the road was hot and uncomfortable. Wind had scarcely stirred since the morning, and thus it brought no relief to the scorching heat. The royal entourage had been on the move ever since morning and they had only made short stops to water the horses; the King wanted them to reach their next stop by tomorrow, which meant long, unpleasant hours in the saddle.

At the moment, Lothíriel's mind was solely fixed on the moment they would reach some camping site that pleased her lord husband's exacting standards. Her riding clothes were itchy and sweaty, her hair glued unpleasantly against her skin where it didn't hang limply, and all she wanted to do was kick off her boots and run barefeet in cool grass. She also craved for a bath with intensity she had not known possible.

When late afternoon came and the King gave the sign to stop and word trickled down the entourage that they would make camp for the night, she felt like she could cry in relief. Finally! Though she had got plenty of practice in riding ever since accepting to marry King Éomer, she still had her limits.

Having dismounted and left her horse in the care of a squire who was appointed to look after her mare for the tour, she sought Captain Éothain in the multitude of people and horses. He had been giving orders to some of the King's Riders when she approached, and he bowed at her when he saw her approach. Though she knew him as little as she did her lord husband, the captain always treated her courteously. And being the husband of Lady Scýne, Lothíriel was inclined to think well of him.

"My lady, do you need something?" Éothain asked her.

"I was just wondering if there might be a chance to take a bath nearby. Are there rivers, or even small streams, in these parts?" she asked him hopefully. Elbereth, what wouldn't she give for a chance to wash!

"There is indeed a small river close by. I believe that is why Éomer wanted us to camp here", the captain said with a friendly smile. But he frowned then slightly, "However, I cannot let you go alone, my lady. You shouldn't be without protection, even if our scouts have searched the area."

Lothíriel was already trying to come up with ways to persuade him when a sudden voice interrupted them both.

"I will go with her. I think I should be fairly capable at keeping my wife safe."

Both her and the captain turned to see the King of the Mark standing nearby. He looked like he thought nothing much of it, but then again she knew there was always more going on in his mind than he showed to her.

"Very well. But don't take too long", Éothain agreed, but he gave his liege-lord a stern look. Lothíriel hid her smile; she thought it was rather endearing how the captain sometimes treated the Lord of the Mark like he was not a very capable warrior king, but his wayward son who needed supervision at all times.

"Relax, old man. We are going to be completely fine", said the King with a wry half-smile. For whatever reason, shiver ran down her spine in a way that surprised her in how thrilling it felt.

Once she had dug through her travelling chest for a change of clothes and a bar of soap, and her lord husband was similarly armed, they headed for the river. He lead the way, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. The hold of his fingers seemed relaxed, but she knew trained warriors, and that he'd snap to action at the slightest disturbance. Lothíriel noted he had also taken along his light bow and a quiver of arrows, which was usually fastened to his saddle. She also knew there was a knife hidden in his boot – she had once seen him slipping it there, and had no doubt it was no one time occurrence but a part of his everyday routine of getting dressed. No one would be taking them unawares, though she wondered at his level of preparation. Then again, it could have something to do with the impostor posing as Théodred Prince, even if there had been no sightings of him or his band this far east.

The river ran through a small dale and the hills around it gave the spot some privacy. Soft grass covered the hillsides and the banks, and the stream bubbled merrily away, most likely to join Entwash if she remembered her geography right. It didn't look to be very deep, but the waters ran clear and she was too sweaty and hot to care.

Something that did bother her a little occurred when they had reached the bank of the stream: she had never undressed before her lord husband in broad daylight. It was absolutely different than night time, when forgiving darkness changed everything. But such notion had not occurred to the King; he was already pulling off his boots, and he looked like it wouldn't have made any difference to him if his audience was just her or a hundred people.

It was silly to feel shy, Lothíriel told herself, and began to undress too. The laces on the back of her riding gown required some help from him; perhaps it was the fact he was already almost naked that made her incredibly aware of his physical presence. She swallowed hard and tried to focus on undoing her braid.

The young queen was still in the process of getting rid of her clothing when her lord husband stepped into the river and began to wash, scooping water over himself in the shallow stream. It wasn't deep enough for a swim, but after a long, hot ride this was more than enough. Lothíriel tried to focus on her own task instead of stealing glimpses of so much wet, nude man exposed in the bright sunlight, but it was hard. The King had quite the gift in his ability to be so distracting.

Having undressed and laid her things on the bank of the stream, she picked up a bar of soap and stepped into the river. The water was very cold, almost freezing.

"Oh!" she gasped in the shock of the temperature as she scooped the first splash of water over her skin.

"It's rather cold, isn't it? I believe these waters are snow-melt from the mountains", the King remarked. He was already busy with his soap and looking mockingly unbothered by the cold water.

"You could have told me so earlier!" Lothíriel hissed as she bravely continued to wash, though her skin was already in goosebumps.

"Sorry", he simply said, but he didn't sound very apologetic to her. And was that little twitch on his face a sign of him trying to fight a smile? He added, "Wouldn't have made the water any less cold, though, even if I had said so."

"Be quiet", Lothíriel grumbled at him. The water was too cold for her to consider how cheeky she was being at her lord husband, or that he was being cheeky right back at her. She only wanted to get washed as quickly as possible. What a change to how hot she had felt a short while ago!

The King rinsed the last of the lather from his skin and lazily he sauntered to the bank of the stream. He didn't start to dry himself or dress again. He simply plopped himself down on the grass and settled there to enjoy late afternoon's sunlight – and the view, apparently, because from the corner of her eye she saw him watching her. She still wasn't good at reading his expression, but somehow she got the impression he was liking what he saw. Or, at least she didn't think his eyes would have lingered on her like that if he didn't appreciate it.

She tried to ignore him and focus on what she was doing, but she remained highly aware of being observed until she was done. At that point, her teeth were clattering and she was shivering hard.

"Come here. Let's make you warm", said her lord husband, delivering the words half as a suggestion and half as a command. Not trusting herself to be able to form words, she stepped to the bank, and as soon as her feet touched the grass, a hand grabbed her own and pulled her down to ground. Lothíriel had just about time to gasp in surprise before the body of her lord husband covered hers. His skin was already dry and warm, almost glowing against the goosebumps on hers. She felt like his skin was living sunlight. And for the heat in his eyes, she abruptly forgot about being cold.

"Hmm. I admit I had rather hoped for an encounter like this... you are far too lovely for your own good, my queen", he murmured in a soft, low voice, and he was so close the timbre of it teased the surface of her lips. Her head felt dizzy and there was a fluttering sensation in her stomach, and she wondered if this felt at all like being drunk.

"So it was your plan all along to dump your wife in snow-melt and then snog her back to life?" she asked him, though her voice was more breathless than it was saucy. Even so, it made him chuckle.

"Something like that", said the King and then he kissed her, which rather distracted her from making additional witty remarks.

Sunset was close when they returned to the camp. Éothain gave them a frown – he probably thought they had taken much longer than he'd have liked. But the young queen perceived there was unusual lightness to the way the King held himself, and she even spied that half-smile on his face again. She had a vague feeling she had done something right.

For such a long while, she had thought that he wasn't interested in letting her close, or showing her the man he was behind his walls. But perhaps... perhaps he was at last starting to do just that.

* * *

The tour received an unexpected interruption some three weeks after their departure from Edoras.

They had been making for Helm's Deep, one point on their journey, when a messenger rode from Westfold, making haste as he came. Lothíriel saw him approach her lord husband and she noticed the look of urgency on his face. At the signal of the King, the entourage came to a halt and a hush fell over the previously noisy company. They spoke quickly but in quiet tones, and she gripped her reins more tightly. Had the messenger brought some bad news?

"What do you think they are talking about?" she asked her maid Guthild, who had been riding next to her and telling stories about her childhood in Westfold.

"I don't know. But it must be something serious. The King looks worried", said Guthild and frowned slightly.

They were not left wondering for too long. Looking like he had reached some kind of a decision, King Éomer turned his horse and rode to the side of his wife. His captain and another Rider, a man of the name of Folcred who was high in the chain of command, followed suit.

"My lord, has something happened?" Lothíriel asked her spouse.

"It's nothing serious, lady wife", he answered and lifted his hand in a calming gesture. He cleared his throat and went on, "The messenger you just saw arriving reported a sighting of the false prince and his band less than half a day's ride here. If I ride now and make haste, I may be able to catch up with them and put this matter with the impostor to rest for good."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued before she could, "My lady, Folcred will take you to the village of Elmstoke. You must wait there until I can rejoin you again and continue our journey. It's safer and more comfortable than making camp here, and Erkenbrand's cousin should be glad to host you and your maids."

He delivered the words quickly and efficiently, and she could see he was eager to get to going. And who could blame him – she knew the matter with this impostor rather bothered him, even if the false prince was ultimately a small nuisance and not a real threat to his throne. Perhaps it was rather the fact that someone was so disgracing the name of Théodred his cousin.

"Very well then, my lord", Lothíriel said when she recovered her voice from her surprise. She swallowed and then added another thing, "Just be careful."

"Of course, my lady", he said, picked up her hand and kissed it briefly; they only got down from their saddles so that she could give him her blessing, like she always did when their ways parted. Then once he had mounted his horse again he turned towards Folcred, but his voice was not low enough for her to miss, and her improving grasp of Rohirric allowed her to understand the words he said: "I trust my wife in your care, Folcred. Keep her safe."

Éothain had King's Riders marshalled in a few minutes, and they took their leave as quickly and efficiently as could be expected. Lothíriel watched them as they rode away, their figures growing smaller as they sped towards horizon. For whatever reason, her heart was uneasy, though she knew the impostor could not have a real chance against the company of her lord husband.

The rest of the royal entourage returned to their journey, though their destination was now different than before. It was also more quiet than before, and conversations were carried on in low voices. But Lothíriel was lost in her thoughts as she wondered about her lord husband and just what this impostor might signify to him... posing as a cousin who had died defending the realm. But Lady Scýne had said that King Théoden had raised his sister-children as his own, so perhaps Théodred had been more of a brother than a cousin.

She let out a soft little sigh and gazed ahead. Thinking about everything she knew of her lord husband so far, it made her feel like she was trying to fit together puzzle pieces without any particular success. Each facet of his mind that was revealed to her simply made her more confused. And yet she couldn't just have imagined it, could she, that something new had been emerging between them ever since they had embarked on this tour. But while this journey lasted, there was not really a chance to find out what it was really, and there was also the question if the King would want to talk about it – or even agree with her.

Lothíriel retired early that night; she was feeling rather tired after so many eventful days in row. Lord Erkenbrand's cousin had not fallen second to other hospitable Eorlingas they had visited so far, and he insisted her to take his own rooms for the night. Folcred told her not to wait for the King to return tonight, as he believed they would camp on the road and rejoin the rest of the entourage tomorrow.

The hall was, like most buildings in this village, very recently built. She thought she could still catch a whiff of sawdust here and there, and she didn't see many things that could be inherited from the older generation. But her maid Guthild had explained Elmstoke had been burned to the ground almost in its entirety by Saruman's orcs. She also said the first winter would surely have been very difficult, and that they wouldn't have been able to start rebuilding so quickly hadn't King Elessar sent timber, grain and livestock to help them through the difficult first months. Of course, she had known Rohan had suffered greatly during the war, and more than once she had heard mentions of evils that had befallen in Westfold. But it was different to see this place with her own eyes and know that a year go, this place had been smoking ruins. While she had not grown up ignorant of the shadow, and she had many times sent her father and brothers to their campaigns with a heavy heart, she had not known war like Rohirrim did. Back in the palace by the sea, she had lived sheltered and pampered, while some of these people she now saw around herself had lost everything but their lives. For the first time since her arrival in this land, she wondered if she was actually _worthy_ of being the Lady of the Mark, and if she could ever truly understand the griefs and losses the folk of Rohan had endured.

Now as she was seated and Guthild brushed her hair, her mind wandered over the events of past few days. Somehow, this tour had made her feel further away from home than ever before. It was truly a plunge into a world she had previously known very little about, even if she had been preparing for the position of Rohan's queen ever since last year.

As though she had sensed what the young queen was thinking about, Guthild asked suddenly, "Well, my queen, what do you think of Rohan so far?"

"It's very different than Gondor", she said at length – she didn't feel she could really put her emotions into words yet. In fact, at times she had a feeling she might not be able to do that even after living ten years in this land. How to explain what she had seen and learned so far? Her new people were warm and plainly spoken, she thought their songs were beautiful, and what they lacked in finesse they made up in their joy of living. But they were sometimes too straightforward to her tastes and their wild ways left her scratching her head every other day. Sometimes, she had no idea of what to expect.

"Good different or bad different?" Guthild inquired, continuing to brush her hair with gentle, even strokes.

"Neither, really. Just... different", Lothíriel answered, chewing her lower lip absent-mindedly.

"Hmm. I think you were really brave, my lady. I don't know if I could leave everyone I know and go to live in a foreign land", the maid commented.

"Well, I wouldn't be here if I didn't expect that giving up some things I could acquire something in turn", said the young queen softly.

"Is King Éomer one of those things?" Guthild asked suddenly. At first, Lothíriel was surprised by the question, but then again, she had got hints from over-heard conversations that some among the younger ladies of Rohan thought her and the King's situation was one of highly romantic opportunity. Well, there was the idea of overcoming differences and uniting two separate worlds, and she had read enough of romantic tales to see the potential in the union between a warrior king and a gently bred lady.

"To be honest, I don't know yet", Lothíriel answered truthfully. Perhaps some of the frankness of Rohirrim was rubbing off on her, because in her previous life, she would never have presumed to talk like this with a maid.

She frowned to herself and went on, "Sometimes I just wonder... I wonder how I could make him listen to me. What I should do to make him notice me."

"Oh, I think he notices you plenty, my lady", Guthild said with a low, throaty chuckle. The implications were not lost to Lothíriel, and she felt her cheeks warming quickly. But the maid was not finished, "There are plenty of ways a woman can get her way with her man. There are certain moments husbands are particularly susceptible, and if the King is at all like any typical male, then he is too! Just get him on his back and -"

"I don't mean like _that!"_ Lothíriel hurried to say, already wondering how much the royal household knew about what went by in their chambers. "I'm not so innocent that I don't know a few dirty little tricks! Though of course a wife is glad to know her husband notices her, and it's not like I don't like it when he _does,_ but I just... it would mean a lot to me if I knew he notices me not only as a woman, but as a... a _companion."_

"I think you should tell him that", Guthild said and patted her shoulder. "After all, it's not like him, or most of us for that matter, have an example to look for. Only the oldest among us even remember the time when there was a queen in Meduseld."

Lothíriel glanced at the maid over her shoulder and saw a slight frown on the woman's face.

"And based on the stories I've heard about Morwen Steelsheen, I think you can't really do worse than her", Guthild added thoughtfully.

"Was she a bad queen, then?" asked Lothíriel.

"It's not that. She was just... uninterested in our land, our people. She always wanted to go back to Gondor, and she had no respect for our ways and traditions. Some say she thought any little thing was better if it came from the south, and the court was in uproar during her days. She left the Mark as soon as Thengel King's body was laid in his tomb", Guthild explained. Wryly she continued, "I suppose that's why many people were worried when we heard Éomer King was taking a bride from the south. Some suggested you would be like Morwen. But don't worry, my lady – you have already proven that is not the case."

"How so?" the young queen wanted to know.

"You make effort, my lady. You try to talk to people in their own tongue, and you are obviously not whispering in the King's ear in the favour of your own birth land. Not to mention, if you had no interest in the Mark, you wouldn't have joined the tour", Guthild answered and smiled. The expression heartened Lothíriel almost as much as the words did; at least someone thought her competent.

Maybe there was a place for her in this land and among these people. And this could just be the key into becoming the kind of queen she had imagined herself the day she had decided to marry the King of the Mark.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's an update for Sunday! Hope you had a nice weekend. :)

So, we are now touring the land. I guess I could have gone into it more in detail, but on the other hand, this story is already longer than it was originally supposed to be. I also changed the rating because that little bathing scene - I certainly hadn't planned that but sometimes one can't just help oneself!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you got time, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Tibblets -** Guilty as charged! :D But I'm glad they're at least nice reads, even if they have the tendency of getting out of hand.

 **Anonymous -** Thank you! I'm glad you're liking the story. :)

 **Rachetg -** Me too, actually! I'm finding I rather enjoy the company of this version of our favourite horselord and his lady. :)

 **anthi35 -** Glad to hear that! :)

 **EStrunk -** We'll see! And Lothíriel is making some progress, though it may be slow. You make a very good point in saying they have to make it up as they go. That's probably a part of why Éomer doesn't know how to handle his queen.

 **Jo -** Indeed! I'd rather things proceed naturally.

 **Candleinyourwindow -** Happy to hear that!

 **Anonymous -** Glad you liked it! I'm afraid this will be following Lothíriel's POV strictly, so whether he's besotted or not will have to be read from his actions!

 **sailor68 -** Yes, it was definitely a step forward! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

 **Anon -** Oh, if he resented (? I assume that's what you meant) her existence, he'd never have married her!

 **Anonymous -** Exactly! And listening to their concerns and ideas can be very helpful in restoring the realm.

As for the impostor, I don't think he really has many followers. Certainly he's not so powerful it would be smart for him to go making such claims. Rohirrim are most likely aware that Théodred is very much dead, and those who support him are mostly criminal type who are with him mostly out of convenience.

 **Nerdanel -** Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying this. And there is most assuredly something growing between them!


	5. A Wife for the Warrior

**A Wife for the Warrior**

Guthild left her soon after the conversation had ended. It wasn't late yet, but Lothíriel felt tired, and she was looking forward to a proper night's sleep in a real bed. So she curled up under the blankets and went again over her maid's words. She thought about Morwen Queen and the legacy she had left – a legacy that was so strong even people who had never seen her still remembered, and had held against the new queen before she had married King Éomer. Apparently, she had been right to think "Steelsheen" was not a name you gave to someone you loved. What would people call her in years to come? Or would she never find a way to break the walls that stood between her and the King, thus leaving her but in the shadow of his glory?

She drifted off to sleep quickly enough, too weary to entertain her current line of thought very long. But her dreams of that night came to an end very soon, or at least it felt like she was startled awake no later than she had put her head on the pillow.

There were shouts, carrying to the bedchamber from the other side of the Hall. Rubbing her eyes, Lothíriel sat up to listen, and at first she thought some kind of a brawl had broken out, or maybe Erkenbrand's cousin Eanulf had been serving too much ale to his guests. But as she grew more awake and her mind became more clear, she realised there was real alarm in the shouts. It sounded like fighting!

Wasting no more time, she leaped from the bed, pushed her feet into her boots, and grabbed a robe around herself. No later than she had tied it, the door was thrown open.

In the doorway stood a man she didn't know. He was no Rider of the King's Company – his less than tidy appearance, poorly kept and mismatched gear, and the lack of the embroidered cloak were testimony of that. However, he couldn't be one of Eanulf's own men either, or at least it seemed highly unlikely to her that they would enter the queen's bedchamber in such a fashion... or carry a naked blade in his hand while doing so.

"Who are you?" she asked and took a step back, alarm rising in her breast.

"You are coming with me", he simply answered and entered the room. Somewhere outside, shouting had grown louder than before.

"Most certainly not!" Lothíriel answered and backed away, until she could feel the wall behind herself. Her eyes darted to one side and the other, looking for a way to flee. However, the stranger stood between her and the door, which was the only way out.

"I would rather not hurt you, lady, but I will if you do not comply!" he growled at her and was before her with one long stride. She gasped and pressed herself against the wall, her hands searching blindly for some kind of a weapon. But all her fingers grabbed at was air, and when she could think of nothing else, she tried to scratch his face.

"Éomer will kill you for this!" she shrieked in outrage. How dare he touch her! How could he even presume to live after touching her against her will!

He was having none of it. His fist collided with her midsection and punched air out of her; while she was gasping and blinking tears of pain from her eyes, he grabbed her by her elbow and started to drag her outside.

"He will do no such thing if he wants you back alive and in one piece!" the stranger hissed, sheathing his sword for the time being and grabbing her by both arms to get her outside faster.

"Let me go! Help! Help!" she tried to shout, but the sound came out weak and thin – she hadn't yet recovered from his punch. Her attempts to struggle availed her nothing, as he was stronger than her, and his fingers pressed against her arms like tight iron bands.

Aid came in shape that probably surprised him just as much as it did her. From the corner of her eye, Lothíriel saw the approach of her helper, and then, armed with a chamber pot, Guthild fell on them like a storm.

"You leave her alone, swine!" the maid screamed and hit the would-be captor so hard that the pot shattered into a hundred pieces. Dizzy and bewildered, he let go of the young queen, giving her a chance to try out one trick Amrothos had taught her years ago. Lothíriel had never tried it on a man – her brother had understandably refused – but when she drove her knee hard into the attacker's groin and he yowled in pain, she knew she had done well.

"Come, let's get you out of here!" Guthild cried, while Lothíriel was still marvelling over her attempt actually working. Another pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders, though these were much gentler. Then Guthild was pulling her away from the scene, helping Lothíriel to snap out of it.

"We need to get out of the hall and hide somewhere", the maid said anxiously, leading her mistress down the corridor.

"But we can't get through the hall – that's where all the shouting is coming from", Lothíriel pointed out. Indeed, it would be a very poor idea to put themselves in the middle of where the fight was likely the thickest.

"No worries, my lady. There's another way out in the kitchens. I heard the servants talking about it, and I think I know the way. Quickly now! We don't want to meet that pig's friends", Guthild answered quickly, holding Lothíriel's hand in her own as she lead the way.

"Where did you come from, anyway?" asked the young queen.

"I was meaning to go to bed when I heard yelling. So I decided to come and find out what was happening, and that's when I saw that man entering your room. It was clear he was going to take you, so I grabbed the closest thing I could find that I could use to hurt him", the other woman explained in a rapid outpour of sentences.

"That was very brave and very foolish. He could have hurt you!" Lothíriel pointed out.

"Well, I couldn't just let him whisk you away. How would I have explained that to the King?" Guthild answered, sounding much more cheerful than the situation warranted. Lothíriel could only shake her head in helpless disbelief.

During their conversation, they had reached the kitchens, which were located at the back of the hall. Guthild had managed to navigate them through the servants' quarters, thus allowing them to stay away from the fight. However much Lothíriel would have liked to know who these villains were and what precisely was happening, at the moment it was more important for them to get away and hide some place safe.

They had already got their hopes up, thinking they would be able to slip out through the kitchens. But the attackers were proving themselves to be cunning: they had left one man to guard the doorway.

Guthild was not so easily dismayed. Stepping before the young queen, she grabbed a frying pan from a hook by the wall and threatened the villain with it.

"You better make us way, or I'm not going to answer for consequences!" she exclaimed, wielding the pan as though it was a very deadly weapon.

"Get gone, girl. I have no quarrel with you, but if you stand in my way, I will hurt you", growled the man and lifted his blade. His appearance was as untidy as the last one, bearing the signs of a long time spent in the wild.

"Guthild, there's no reason for you to endanger yourself for -" Lothíriel started, but on that moment the door of the kitchens was thrown open once more and another person stepped in. At first she expected the worst and thought it would be another of these attackers, but instead she saw Folcred standing there, his sword naked in his hand. There was vague relief on his face when he saw his queen unharmed, but then he noticed the man blocking the way out. Fell determination took his features immediately.

"Get the Queen out of here, Guthild!" the Rider commanded in a harsh, fierce tone. Then he flung himself at the enemy, and his attack was so forceful that the stranger had no choice but to defend himself.

Lothíriel and Guthild did not waste the opportunity. Hand in hand they darted, making their escape through the kitchen door and into the night.

It was very dark, as the moon was new tonight, but the air was full of shouts and sounds of running feet. How the struggle was turning out and how many villains there even were, they could only guess. The two women ran blindly, turning right here and left there. For a small village, this place surely seemed to have a lot of streets!

Eventually, it seemed like most of the noise had fallen behind. However, as long as they didn't know the number of attackers and the nature of this crisis, it was not smart to stay out in the open.

This idea occurred to them at the same time, but it was Guthild who found them a hiding place: she peeked in what seemed like an empty stable, and they slipped inside as quietly as shadows. Perhaps the owners had gone with other breeders to the grasslands, leaving their stables unoccupied. It suited the two runaways very well, and hopefully no one would think to look for them here.

"What do you think happened at the hall?" Guthild asked her when their breaths had evened a little, and they grew more certain they were now moderately safe. There should be enough men left to guard Eanulf's hall to keep the attackers preoccupied, thus giving them no chance to search every stable in the village.

"I wish I knew for sure", Lothíriel said with a slight frown as she fumbled her way around in the dark. Some light would have been welcome, but even if there had been something to make fire with, they couldn't risk giving away their hiding place. She frowned to herself and continued, "It does seem awfully convenient for them that the King and so many of his Riders are not here. I cannot help but think the two things are connected... my lord husband said that impostor is cunning, so maybe it was his plan to trick the King's Riders to leaving the rest of the company, and then attack when no one was expecting it. Even so, I wonder how they were able to get into the hall so easily."

"Well, the night is very dark, and the village doesn't yet have any proper defences. I suppose it was easy enough to sneak in, especially with surprise on their side. Maybe they had help", Guthild suggested and searched around in the darkness. She made a pleased little sound, "Oh! There's some hay here, and I think I found a saddle cloth. It's not much but it will keep you warm, my lady."

Lothíriel also found some water in a skin, and though it tasted stale, it was welcome after their race in the dark. After they had shared the drink, they settled down on hay and sought for comfortable positions. Right now, the smartest idea was just to wait until the uproar outside died.

"I wonder what they were looking for. Why take such a risk? Even with the King away, it seems like a very foolhardy thing to do", Lothíriel said when they had been sitting for a few moments in silence.

"Isn't it obvious, my lady? They wanted to take you as captive. I can't think of any other reason to try to do something so dangerous", Guthild remarked thoughtfully.

"But to what end, Guthild? If it was their intention to blackmail my lord husband, then what did they hope to achieve?" Lothíriel wondered out loud. The same thought had occurred to her already, but the reason behind it remained obscure to her. Yes, she was the queen of this land, but the impostor could not presume to think she was enough of an asset to dethrone the King.

Her maid seemed to agree.

"Who knows? The false prince must be well aware he has no chances against Éomer King. There's no one mad enough to actually believe Théodred was still alive somehow, or willing to assist him in some kind of a coup. But that doesn't mean you couldn't be used at all to hurt the crown. Maybe he just wanted to humiliate Éomer King and get his sticky paws on some of the royal treasure", said Guthild at length.

Lothíriel thought of this and decided the other woman probably had a point in there. She frowned to herself, abruptly displeased that she had not realised this sooner. Of course there would be people who might want to use her against her husband! And she was probably one of the very few things the impostor could actually use to harm the King personally.

Guthild patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't worry, my lady. We got away. The impostor's band is not reported to be very large, and that means they must have been counting on speed and surprise. But now that people know they're here, they won't have time to look for you. And once the King hears about this, he's going to make sure they are very, very sorry", the maid said softly.

"I wish he was here", Lothíriel muttered, half to herself as she pulled the saddle cloth tighter about herself. _Then I wouldn't feel so scared_.

"I'm sure he'll return very soon", Guthild reassured her. And it was a reasonable thing to assume – he would have realised by now he and his men were chasing shadows, and that it had been just to get him out of the way. He would race here as quickly as he could, and she knew Rohirric Riders were able to cross incredible distances fast when they needed to.

She made a soft noise in agreement and tried to listen to sounds that might reveal what was going on outside. But it was quieter than before, and she wondered if the attackers had been defeated. How many of them had been caught? Had they tried to run when she had vanished? There was a temptation to go and find out an answer to these questions, but they would have to stay put for the time being. However, there was a chance Folcred and his men would think she and Guthild had been taken.

Lothíriel soon lost her sense of time, which was awfully easy in the dim stables. Moments crawled by as they waited in silence, wondering if it was still wise to remain hidden, or if they should make themselves known. She thought about her lord husband and what he would say when he returned – if he would be very worried when he learned she was missing.

Eventually, Guthild fell asleep, her head falling to rest against Lothíriel's shoulder. The young queen dozed off as well, but she often snapped awake, shivering under the saddle cloth. It was more in dread than because she was cold, and what fitful dreams she had mostly consisted of reliving the moment she had been dragged out by the dirty stranger.

It was around dawn they began to hear noise again. Lothíriel guessed it couldn't be long until sunrise, judging by how the darkness was growing more grey as moments passed.

"What is that?" Guthild mumbled hoarsely; she had slept through most of the night, making the young queen rather envy her ability to get away from the noise of the world for a while.

"Someone's shouting", she said and listened as the sounds grew louder and closer.

"... my lady Queen! Lothíriel Queen! Can you hear me?"

The two women looked at one another, but it was Guthild who spoke the question out loud: "Do you think we should answer? It could be one of Folcred's. Or maybe the King has returned."

"I don't know", Lothíriel said, hesitating between wanting to dart out and fearing who would be there to receive her. Yes, it wasn't likely that those villains had lasted this long, but she had to be absolutely certain she wasn't surrendering herself to enemy hands.

"I'll peek out. If it's those ruffians, they won't know my face – I could be just any frightened villager", Guthild decided. But before she did, she insisted Lothíriel to hide under some hay, She was too anxious to notice being uncomfortable, and her heart raced in her breast as though in attempt to burst.

Luckily, their precautions were not necessary. Soon enough the maid exclaimed in delight: "My lady, you can come out! It's one of the King's men!"

Lothíriel felt so relieved, she thought she was going to cry – or maybe laugh in hysterical joy. Sniffling to herself, she emerged from the pile of hay and hastened to the door of the stables. Guthild stood there in grey light of dawn and with her was one of the King's Riders.

"My lady! It is very good to see you. We were already thinking one of those villains might have taken you. The King is very concerned", he said and bowed at her, his reprieve visible on his features.

"So he has returned?" Lothíriel asked, feeling suddenly dizzy at this news. Éomer was here! Now let those scoundrels try to capture her!

"Aye, my lady. We arrived less than an hour ago", the Rider replied. He reached a hand towards her, "Please, let me take you to him. Like I said, he's beside himself with worry."

"Of course. Let's go", said the young queen and let herself be lead away from this place. She was glad the night's excitement was finally over

The Rider took them back to Eanulf's hall. The road before it and the courtyard were rather crowded – guards in green cloaks, curious villagers and members of the royal entourage had gathered there, speaking quietly. Near the wall of the building, Lothíriel saw seven covered bodies and shivered. How many of those were men of the Royal Guard? How many had given their lives because of her?

When they came, conversations fell silent, but the Rider leading them pushed people from way, steering them towards the entrance. Then Lothíriel saw the golden-haired head that towered over others, and it was all she could do from sobbing out loud. He was pacing restlessly and talking with someone, his voice rising occasionally in threatening tones, and she thought he looked like a great beast stalking inside a cage. Now that she saw her lord husband, she felt completely safe once more.

"Sire, over here!" shouted the Rider escorting her. Her lord husband halted when he heard the exclamation, and then he turned around sharply, his eyes searching the crowd. For the briefest moment, Lothíriel saw the grimness of his features and the bright blazing of his eyes, and in any other situation it might have made her very uneasy. However, right now she was just too happy to see him to feel anything except relief.

Then he saw her. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth as though to exclaim. But no sound came out; he began to move, and with what seemed like two long strides he was on the front of her.

A pair of arms grabbed her tightly, crushing her against his chest. Such deed did not disconcert her at all. As a matter of fact, it only made her weak with reprieve.

"I was so worried about you. I thought they had taken you", he mumbled into her hair, and she had never heard him sound so... so _tender._ Carefully, he moved his hands and cupped her face between them. He asked, "Are you all right? Have you been hurt?"

"Not beyond a few bruises. I'll be fine", Lothíriel answered in a wavering voice. With wide eyes, she stared up at the face of her lord husband. Now there was nothing guarded about his features; his expression was raw as it was open, and she thought it was almost as if he had been afraid. Here was at last what she had so hoped to see: the soul of the man she had married laid bare before her eyes!

The King leaned down and kissed the top of her head, and when he pulled back, he seemed more collected again. He also noticed she was parading around in nothing but her robe, and swiftly he undid the clasp on his throat, releasing his cloak. Then he wrapped it around her, and she was thankful for its cover.

"Can you tell me what happened after you left the hall?" he asked then, and Lothíriel explained quickly how she and Guthild had escaped and found a hiding place in the stables. At the end of her story, he looked satisfied.

"I did hope you had taken shelter somewhere. But it seems most of those scoundrels got away – last night was too dark to give them a proper chase, and Folcred had to take care of the wounded. We were afraid one of the impostor's men might have encountered you and taken you captive", he said, frowning as he spoke. So it was like she and Guthild had guessed: it _had_ been the false prince attacking last night.

"That's why we didn't come out sooner. We weren't sure there wouldn't be more of them", Lothíriel said and shuddered at the memory of hard, violent hands tightening about her arms and dragging her. Her lord husband noticed and concern revisited his face.

"Are you well, my lady?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes. I'm just tired. I barely got any sleep last night", she answered with a weary little smile.

The King looked around and spotted Guthild, who had remained nearby. He gestured at the maid and she stepped closer.

"Guthild, take my lady wife back to her chambers. Make sure she gets a bath and something to eat", he commanded, and then gave orders for a pair of Riders to keep guard at her door. While the young queen was thankful for his consideration, those were not every thing she'd have liked at the moment, but she didn't protest. Instead, she let herself be escorted back into the hall.

* * *

After a bath and an early breakfast, Lothíriel felt a bit better. Her mind was calmer now and she wasn't so afraid someone malevolent would burst through the door again, but some uneasiness still remained. Guthild had already gone, having done all that she could for her mistress; when she had helped Lothíriel into a sleeveless shift and told her to get some sleep, the bedchamber felt unbearably quiet and lonely. And each time she closed her eyes, the face of that man was there before her eyes.

Eventually, she gave up her attempt to sleep and she got up from the bed. It was still very early and the house breathed softly with dawn, but somehow the stillness that might otherwise been comforting only reminded her of the calm before storm.

She paced for a while and threw an occasional glance at the door. Maybe she could...? Would he mind very much if she...? Lothíriel bit her lip and wrapped arms around herself. Could it hurt to ask, at least? He _was_ her husband, and he had seemed so worried for her sake...

Lothíriel made up her mind and darted to the door. Guards stood behind it like he had ordered and they looked at her curiously when she peeked outside.

"I would like to talk with the King", she simply said. Her voice came out surprisingly steady and collected.

"Aye, my lady. I will go and tell him", said one of the two and bowed at her before he left his post.

Having closed the door, she continued to pace again. Worriedly she wondered if he wouldn't come, but send someone to tell her he had no time for her nonsense.

Less than five minutes had passed when the door was opened, and there stood her lord husband. A surge of warmth spread in her chest, along with a sense of safety. How was it possible that just seeing him would reassure her so much?

"My lady, I was told you were asking for me. Is something amiss?" he asked her with some concern.

"No, it's not that", she said and cleared her throat. How to speak this out loud without sounding pathetic? "I couldn't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the man who tried to take me, and... I just don't want to be alone. And I feel so much safer when you are nearby."

The King stared at her quietly. Her cheeks warmed up and she looked down in embarrassment. Quietly she muttered, "I'm sorry. I know you must have better things to do."

She heard him moving then, and he stopped when he was standing before her. Gentle hands descended on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry you think that", he said softly, but she didn't dare to look up or meet his eyes. He continued, "You have every right to ask for my aid."

His words had her lifting her gaze and she looked at him, wondering at what he had said. Well, it was a perfectly normal thing to say to one's spouse, but she was not used to thinking of him or their relationship in normal terms.

The King moved his hands down from her shoulders and his fingers traced her arms, his touch light as feathers. The crease on his brow made her realise – he had noticed the bruises from where the villain's hands had grabbed her.

"This is my fault. I should have left more men to protect you", he muttered in a low, rough voice. Once more, his features showed that openness as before in the courtyard, though he didn't seem so deeply anxious.

"It's all right. We didn't see it coming", she told him and offered him a smile. But he remained uneasy.

"The day I married you, I vowed to keep you safe and make sure no one would ever lay hands on you. We have been married for a few months and I have already failed", said her lord husband, and he shifted as though to move away. But she lifted her own hands and placed them on his waist.

"Not in my eyes", she stated simply, and then she quickly wrapped her arms around him and hid her face against his chest. She felt him take in breath sharply, but his answer came soon enough: he returned the embrace, his arms holding her in a way that was really too careful. She had a feeling he didn't hug a lot of people, so maybe he was a bit rusty in that regard. But this was a good start, and his warmth and solidness of his form were incredibly comforting. It was the first hug she got since Erchirion's visit, and suddenly she realised just how much she had missed this. Though it was different too – no one she had ever hugged filled her arms like this living giant did.

A moment passed by like so, but being so close to one another did not become awkward. Rather, there was something deeply reassuring about it, and she felt trustful and safe. She wondered what he thought about it – if he liked the way she fit in his embrace.

Eventually, Lothíriel pulled back enough to look up at the face of her royal spouse.

"Stay with me for a bit?" she asked him softly.

"As you wish", he replied and then, much to her appreciation, he finally kissed her.

* * *

They were both startled awake some hours later by the sound of someone knocking at the door. With bleary eyes, Lothíriel cracked open her eyes and noticed two things. One, it was already midday, judging by the amount of light. Two, she had passed out in the arms of her lord husband, and he had not seen it necessary to move her away from himself. Sleepily she thought he felt nice and warm, there was something reassuring about his smell, and his chest under her cheek had just the right level of solidity. She would gladly have continued her slumber hadn't the disrupting sound continued in such an insistent way.

But eventually the King chose not to keep on ignoring it and he disentangled them from one another, while she was still too sleepy to form a coherent thought – or help him to get away from the grip of her arms.

"Give me a moment!" he shouted to the one who had so rudely interrupted their sleep, and he began to pull on his trousers while Lothíriel was still trying to clear her mind. Then he made for the door and opened it enough to talk to whoever was on the other side. Their voices were too quiet for her to make out anything.

Yawning and stretching she sat up in the bed; she felt vastly better than in those early morning hours. Last night's events did not seem so close now, and her mind was peaceful.

Her lord husband turned from the doorway and resumed to getting dressed. While he was pulling a shirt over his head, he said, "A scout has returned. Apparently he has some information on the impostor. Moreover, one of the villain's men was apprehended and it seems like he may be willing to talk."

"What do you mean to do?" Lothíriel asked him and combed fingers through her tangled hair. Though she had bathed and Guthild had brushed her hair, she still kept finding bits and pieces of hay from it.

"I do not know yet. But I'm not well pleased with them assaulting my wife", he said and something dark passed across his face. Then the expression passed, and he asked her, "Do you want to rest still, or shall I send Guthild in?"

"Send her in. I think I'd like to get up", Lothíriel answered and remembering there was something she ought to tell him, she reached to touch his hand. "I forgot to tell you earlier... she's the one who got me out. I would probably have been taken hadn't she watched out for me last night."

The King looked quizzically at her, and she briefly explained how the maid had helped to release her from the attacker in her room. His brow knitted and the look in his eyes was strange.

"Then I'm more indebted to her than I realised", he said in a low voice and reached to kiss her head. Resting a hand against her cheek, he muttered, "I'm glad you are safe. I do not know what I'd do if something happened to you."

With that, he turned again and strode out, once again leaving behind a rather perplexed wife.

"You just love doing that, don't you?" she said to the empty room, threw her hands in the air in a bout of hopeless exasperation, and buried her face in his pillow.

* * *

Guthild arrived soon after, finding her mistress naked in the bed and punching a pillow in a hapless display of frustration. Lothíriel blushed when she realised she had not even considered tossing a shift on, although her lord husband had said he would send her maid in. Thankfully, Guthild was tactful and said she needed to fetch more water, thus giving the young queen a moment to wash and make herself slightly more decent.

"Are you feeling better now, my lady?" Guthild asked her when she was working over Lothíriel's hair.

"I am, thank you. It was good to get some sleep", said the young queen. _And his presence helped, too._

"The King seemed relieved when I saw him before. He was even offering to give me ten horses!" said the maid and she shook her head in disbelief. "Can you believe it? Ten horses! That would be a fortune even for a noble lord."

"No one can say you didn't deserve it, Guthild", said Lothíriel in solemn tones, though she was also surprised at the generosity of her spouse. He must appreciate her more than she realised. "Who knows where I would be now hadn't you come to my aid?"

"I just did what anyone would have done, my lady", Guthild stated firmly and carefully arranged the complicated braids she had just made in her mistress' hair. She patted Lothíriel's shoulder and went on, "I think you should tell him what we talked about last night before those villains attacked, my lady. It is clear he cares about you a great deal, even if he doesn't say it out loud."

"You think so?" Lothíriel asked softly, mostly to just say anything.

"Don't you think so, then? Were you paying no attention at all this morning?" her maid asked back.

The young queen didn't know what to answer and she looked down in her lap. Guthild sensed the conversation wasn't going to go anywhere, and so she added the finishing touches to Lothíriel's hair and announced she was all ready for the day. Eager to hear whatever news the scout had brought and to learn what the King meant to do now, Lothíriel thanked her maid and headed out of the bedchamber. At the door, she took a deep breath; the entire village would know by now what had happened last night, and she wanted to give them no reason to think their queen was not calm and unshaken.

There were those curious looks she had known to expect when she and Guthild entered the feasting hall. But she kept her expression even and held her shoulders high and proud, and she gazed around herself as a queen in the height of her power might survey the land. She waited to see her lord husband somewhere, but he was not present. As for the feasting hall itself, the signs of last night's struggle had been cleaned already. Tables and benches were in neat rows as usually, and no blood stains marked spots where someone had fallen. A shiver ran down Lothíriel's spine when she thought of the fight that had commenced here last night – and how very close this place had been to her chamber. She had been lucky not to get caught.

Lothíriel was already about to turn to Guthild and ask her to find out the King's whereabouts when Folcred approached them. His expression was tight and tense, and he bowed deep when he halted before her.

"My lady", he greeted her in a quiet voice, "I hope you are feeling well today, despite last night's events."

"I am quite all right, Folcred. There is no need to worry", she said simply and offered a smile to the Rider. But he did not look placated.

"While I'm glad you were not harmed, I must offer my apologies. The King trusted me with your safety, and yet I almost let you be captured by those basta- _villains."_

"It's no matter. I do not think any of us could have expected it to happen", Lothíriel said and waved her hand dismissively. "Not to mention, you did contribute to my escape by holding back that one man in the kitchens. You haven't broken the word you gave to my lord husband."

"Even so, I hold myself responsible. The Queen of the Mark should not have to flee into the night and hide in barns", Folcred said stiffly, and his features grew grim. The young queen realised it was of no use to try to turn his head; she knew Rohirrim were proud and stubborn, and she would have more success in trying to persuade rocks to dance than in convincing him he had done all he could.

"In any case, I still am thankful for your aid", she said at length. She glanced around again and asked him, "Folcred, have you seen my lord husband?"

"He is still interrogating the fellow we were able to capture last night", he answered.

"What have you found out so far?" she wanted to know, eager to make sense of what exactly had taken place.

"So far it seems the messenger we encountered on the road had been bribed by the impostor to bring false news to the King, and thus snare him away from you, my lady. The false prince was hoping to carry you away while Éomer was not around. He knew he'd never get close to you if your husband was anywhere in your vicinity. And less there would be fighting men left to guard you, the better chance it was for him", the Rider explained, frowning as he spoke.

"But what did he want to achieve by it? Does he have something personally against the King?" Lothíriel asked. She guessed this villain posing as Théodred Prince had known it would hit a nerve with King Éomer, when it was his own cousin whose good name was so being disrespected and used to evil ends. Thus it had also been possible to lure him away from the royal entourage.

Folcred shook his head.

"My queen, it doesn't seem like a personal grudge. Best I can figure, this impostor is simply an opportunist, and he would probably be doing this even if it wasn't Éomer wearing the crown. It's simply an easy way to get at him, because everyone knows the he and Théodred were close as brothers", he said and scratched thoughtfully his bearded chin. He went on,"I see it this way, my lady: the impostor knows every day he is out there, the nets to catch him continue to tighten. It's only a matter of time he's apprehended and brought to justice. But when he learned the King was touring the land and he had brought his new wife with him, the false prince saw an opportunity for one last raid, bigger than anything he had done before. You see, he is well aware he had no genuine chance if the King was able to engage him in battle. However, by seizing the Queen, he could force the throne into paying a hefty ransom, and thus ensure he could retire comfortably from his robber's trade."

Lothíriel nodded. His words confirmed what she and Guthild had already suspected: this was nothing more than a scoundrel trying to get profit where they could. She also felt somewhat reassured. It didn't seem like her spouse would have to face a long and bloody civil unrest in the land. Not to mention, if the tour had convinced her of something, it was that Rohirrim supported and loved their new king. No fraud would be able to sway that relationship to the worse.

"Well, that is not going happen now that he has made my lord husband angry", she stated and wondered what he was going to do next. "But in any case, I'm grateful for the help you both gave to me last night."

A wry smile touched the Rider's face and he glanced at the maid by the young queen's side before adding, "I don't think the impostor expected to meet such vigorous opposition."

"My grandmother was a Shieldmaiden in her time. Her ghost would probably return to haunt me if I ever acted cowardly!" Guthild simply said. Lothíriel looked at her in surprise and made a mental note of having to ask the maid about her grandmother when the time was more convenient. No doubt Guthild had many wonderful tales in store, but they would have to wait for the time being.

Upon her inquiry, Folcred proceeded to describe the details of last night's events. He told them how the surprise attack had come in the night when most of the Royal Guard were already asleep, and how the confusion had given the impostor's men the upper hand at first. That was what they had been counting on: to strike hard and fast, and be gone before anyone realised the Queen was missing. But Guthild's intervention had rather muddled the plan, and once Lothíriel had slipped into the night, the assault had quickly dried up. Whether the impostor had been here last night was not certain, but at any rate the company had dissolved fast when Eanulf and Folcred had marshalled the defences and taken back the advantage.

At that point, the search for attackers and the missing queen were started, and everyone from the guards to kitchen maids were summoned to look for the Queen. For a while, they had feared she had been carried away, and this Folcred had also reported to the King with a heavy heart upon his return a few hours later. Shaking his head, the Rider muttered he had been sure heads would drop if she was not found.

"He was frantic, my lady. I thought he might tear the village apart and Eanulf would have to rebuild it yet again, but we were able to keep him here and wait for tidings once the searches had been fully conducted throughout Elmstoke", Folcred finished his explanation. Lothíriel worried her lip and thought if she should have emerged from hiding sooner, but then she reminded herself in that situation, staying hidden had been the only sensible action.

Commotion at the other end of the hall captured their attention. There came the Lord of the Mark, fully armoured and wearing the steadfast face of a man who has a clear course of action in his mind. His captain walked beside him and was talking quietly to him, while a company of Riders trailed them. There was something forceful and decisive about their advance, and at once Lothíriel thought they were meaning to ride somewhere.

She was not left wondering about this for long. For the King came straight to her, and Folcred and Guthild fell behind with curtsies and bows.

"My lord?" Lothíriel asked him uncertainly. Did he want them to depart already and head for their next stop?

"My lady. I have decided to go after the impostor", he stated in a low, firm voice.

She blinked. Surely this couldn't be!

"Again?" she managed to croak, searching his face for an explanation.

"Aye. I have just finished interrogating the villain Folcred's men were able to catch last night. I was able to make him talk, and he has told me where the fraud keeps his camp. I'm going to put an end to this matter", he announced, and in his eyes burned a dark, dangerous fire. There was a man who knew bloodlust.

"But my lord, surely you cannot go after him like this again? What if this is another trap?" Lothíriel asked in growing distress, though she kept her voice even.

"The scout that arrived confirms the story. He followed their tracks and came close to where the camp is supposed to be. And the prisoner spilled out everything, even things I had not heard before. After last night's disaster, the impostor and his band will not have had a chance to re-group, and least of all to set any more traps", he answered and in his voice there was a stubborn note that made her heart fall. With each word that he spoke, he seemed to grow more convinced this was the right thing to do. "Moreover, I sent a Rider to Erkenbrand last night as soon as I realised we had been deceived. Half of his éored will join mine, and the other half will take you to Helm's Deep. They will be here any time now. With his strength added to mine, we will be able to tighten our noose around the neck of this prey and put it out of its misery."

"So you will just put me from another box to the next one while you go and chase after ghosts, and ignore completely what happened the last time you did so? And ignore the fact that we are supposed to be touring the land", Lothíriel stated at last, staring at her spouse in growing dismay.

Something about her words fell badly with him. He frowned – a dark, dreadful expression – and he stood quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, it was in a stern voice he had never used with her before.

"Do not presume to tell me how to track and hunt villains in my own land. I was learning that trade when you were a child in your father's palace", he snapped, less even than before.

"And _you_ should not presume to think I'm still a child! I'm simply asking you to consider this carefully!" she shot back at him, but her words did not seem to move him.

"This is not a discussion, Lothíriel. I am going", he told her stiffly.

At once, her temper flared. How could he! How _dare_ he treat her like this!

"I say it _is!_ Why is it so important that _you_ go?" she demanded to know and stepped abruptly closer to him. If this scene had witnesses, she had long since forgotten about it.

He stepped towards her as well, his dark eyes flashing in a threatening way.

"Don't you understand, woman? Don't you realise every day that bastard goes free and tarnishes the name of a good man who died to save this land is a personal insult to me?" he growled at her, and never had he towered over her like he did now. And yet she had never felt as tall in comparison to him as she did on this moment.

Her lord husband hissed under his breath, "He laid hands on my wife. I have had enough. _I'm going."_

"Then go. But you will do it without my approval", she hissed back at him, winding her arms across her chest in a gesture of defiance.

King Éomer stared at her hard, as though he could will her into agreeing. She glared straight back at him, although her neck was starting to hurt from the unusual angle. Once, she had thought she would never prevail in a battle of wills against this man; in fact, she hadn't expected such to occur. Perhaps this wasn't victory to be precise, but she wasn't giving in, either.

Not wasting another minute in talk, he took one knee before her, asking silently for blessing like he always did when he took his leave of her. And even in her anger she _wanted_ to put her hands on his head and send him on his way with her grace. – to deny it seemed wrong on a fundamental level. But this time, she did not do it. She simply pressed her hands into tight fists.

The King looked up at her and she saw his eyes harden. His mouth became a thin line as he stared at her, and it was black, unreflecting steel in that glare. But Lothíriel lifted her chin and met his eyes, refusing to back down before his gaze.

He got up on his feet in a sharp, abrupt motion and turned away without another word, and as she watched him go, Lothíriel knew that she would not soon forget the expression she had just seen on his face.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Since this chapter basically wrote itself, you're getting an update sooner than originally planned! Hope you enjoyed it. :)

Here we see Lothíriel and Éomer's relationship developing even more, though for now it's uncertain if all that development is good! But even then, she's learning how to stand up for herself - and not to take everything as it comes. That may be a very good ability with a husband like him! I'd imagine it's also something of a surprise for him that she would stand up against him so fiercely. However, we know Éomer has a temper and being so taken aback by his wife's opposition doesn't help him to master it! I think if situation was any other, he would probably consider the situation longer than this. But it has got too personal for him: like he says, he can't stand the idea of someone disgracing the name of his cousin, and when an injury against his wife is added to it, he acts hotly. At any rate, I wanted to display here more of his foolhardy side, and examine how Lothíriel would react to it. I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised. :)

As for how the impostor and his band were able to get into Eanulf's hall, it's mostly as Lothíriel and Guthild guessed: the night was very dark and gave cover to them, and since the building of the village isn't yet finished, there are many openings an attacker could use to their advantage. Surprise would have allowed them to conduct he plan even with their smaller numbers, but once Lothíriel and Guthild got away, the upper hand is quickly turned to the Royal Guard.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **EStrunk -** Slow it is indeed, but I do have a thing for the slow build! :) I'm glad you liked that scene. I'd imagine Éothain would send riders to hills nearby, though not too close to invade their privacy.

As for conversation, I'm afraid the current situation doesn't really allow it!

 **Anon -** I really wouldn't say his behaviour stems from being removed from women or marriage. He knows plenty of women and married couples. There is a reason for how he is around her and how he talks to her, and we will get there when the time is right.

 **Nerdanel -** *blushes* Your comment rather flatters me! I'm humbled to hear you think so of me. But please don't hesitate to send me comments! They mean so much to me and are often very helpful in figuring out things about my story I hadn't realised before. I always try to answer every review, whether or not my responses are read.

Also glad to hear I'm managing to write relationships so well! It's important to me that the people and their interactions sound like they could be real. :)

 **Jo -** And I am happy to hear that you think so! :)

 **eschscholzia -** One step forward, two steps backward! Or so it would seem at the moment. :) We'll see about that!

 **Rachetg -** That she is indeed! Though this version of her may seem more like a well-behaved lady, she does have fire in her, too!

 **sailor68 -** Glad you liked it! I enjoyed writing that bit very much. :) He has returned unharmed indeed, but whether their relationship has taken irreparable damage, we'll see!

 **finantheagile -** Thank you! I'm very happy to hear you like my stories and my blog so much. :)

 **inperfection -** And here you go!


	6. A Queen for the People

**A Queen for the People**

Like the King had said, Erkenbrand's Riders arrived less than hour after their disastrous confrontation. By that time, Lothíriel's husband was already on his way Elbereth knew where, and she had packed her belongings ready for the journey to Helm's Deep. It wasn't that she suddenly appreciated this thing; there simply wasn't sense in staying in Elmstoke or going anywhere else without her lord husband. And they had meant to visit the Hornburg from the start, so she decided she could very well go there now that the continuance of the tour seemed uncertain. Not to mention, she had wanted to see the legendary fortress for as long as she had been preparing for becoming the Queen of Rohan, and this was as good a chance as any.

Seeing the tour had been put on hold, and the fact most of it had been covered already, some of the royal entourage took their leave and headed for Edoras. Some would no doubt follow, but Lothíriel had overheard the company escorting her would not wait for the rest of them – apparently, the King didn't want them lingering on the road. His intention was to get her safely behind the walls of the Hornburg as soon as it was possible. Moodily she thought he seemed to consider her more an object than a person.

The manner of her travelling was different from before. Now there were a dozen heavily armed guards around her instead a company of ladies and maids and servants. When these Riders had first surrounded her, she had felt like they were men trusted with transporting a Silmaril, not a queen.

Guthild had noticed the way she had been shaking her head and the disbelieving glances she kept throwing around herself. Her voice had been gentle when she had reached to pat the young queen's arm, "My lady, the King lost both his uncle and cousin during the Ring War, and it got very close that his sister died too. Losses like that can leave one a bit overbearing when it comes to one's family. He only wants to make sure you are safe."

Grudgingly Lothíriel had to admit, if only to herself, that she understood where this reaction stemmed from, especially when she also remembered what Scýne had told her. But it didn't mean she was going to like this situation.

As the company made their way for the Hornburg, Lothíriel was much engrossed by her brooding thoughts. First, she was worried this development somehow meant the tour was a failure, and that it was a bad omen for her queenship. Second, she kept thinking about her argument with the King and their parting. She had not given him her blessing, and moments came she was scared something bad would happen as a result. Maybe it was a superstitious thing to worry about, but she couldn't help but wonder if this too foreboded evil things. There was a more rational side to it, though: what if the King was harmed while she and him were in quarrel, and he died thinking his wife did not wish him well? In any case, now she fully understood what her sister-in-law Aredhel had meant when she had said one should never part with one's spouse in dispute.

It bothered her so that eventually, she had to ask Guthild what she thought – and if people believed she had been in the wrong. However, the maid could not give her an answer that would have soothed her troubled mind. The blonde woman shrugged her shoulders and said, "My lady, I suppose some think it was not good to let him go without blessing him. Some of the more superstitious folk even believe that warriors who die in battle without the blessing of their wives are doomed to become hopeless wraiths. But others say the Queen has every right to withhold her graces if she doesn't agree with the King, and that he should have re-considered leaving for such a campaign while you and him were in the middle of the royal tour. Not to mention, it is well that you are not afraid to stand up for yourself. A man so obstinate needs a firm hand."

Usually, Guthild's final remark would have made her laugh, but now it did not. She muttered something in answer and fell back to her thoughts, going over the events back in Elmstoke once more, especially the unfortunate way they had parted. She was still convinced he had reacted too rashly, and she felt like he had been more insulted that someone had dared to touch something he considered his own, rather than concern for a person he cared about The way he had effectively called her a child and refused to even talk about it with her surely implied the former. And yet... the way he had come to her when she had asked for him that early morning, and how safe he had made her feel! He had told her she had every right to ask for his help. However, now she didn't know what to think and feel. He had gone, stubborn to pursue his enemy when she had asked him to stay with her – or, at least, to listen to her.

She didn't sleep much that night, and the following day she felt tired and sour, and keeping up a serene, queenly face took such effort as rarely before now. She had tried not to appear too fretful or worried ever since the King's departure, as she did not want people thinking their marriage was already falling apart or that she regretted not giving her blessing. But as they began to close in on Helm's Deep, she felt energised once more, and she sat up straighter in her saddle, eagerly gazing ahead. Seeing the great fortress, built into the lap of the mountains, she sighed in awe: stories truly did not exaggerate when calling this place a wonder of the north.

Now the place basked in summer's sun and green grass had returned to where iron feet had trampled the ground, but she knew it had been no more than two years since these walls had seen one of the great battles of the War of the Ring. Some of the tales she had heard of that battle were hard to believe, especially the part about the Wood marching to war.

But the land had peace these days and orcs rarely dared to go marauding across the fields of Rohan. Even so, she would be glad to stay far from the great mound on which no grass grew.

Shadows were lengthening when they rode into the fortress. Lothíriel saw Riders in green cloaks walking the parapets, and thought idly they didn't seem to really belong here, even if the fortress had been a part of their realm for many lifetimes of Men. In her mind, Rohirrim seemed to rather be a part of the rolling hills than any dwelling of stone.

She was welcomed into the Hornburg by Erkenbrand's wife, a tall fair-haired woman named Léoma. The Marshal himself had ridden out to join the King, leaving his wife in charge of the fortress. Léoma was a handsome lady in her fifties, and she already had a brood of grandchildren running about her feet. Unbidden a thought came to Lothíriel when she was climbing the stairs to meet the lady of the fortress: herself, a queen weathered and tried by many years, and a dozen little fair-haired horselords who had sprung from the line she and the King who was now young and strong had started together...

"My lady, welcome to the Hornburg", Lady Léoma spoke and curtsied, bringing her mind back to the present moment.

"Thank you, Lady Léoma. It is an honour to be here", Lothíriel answered warmly. Though she was tired from the journey and poorly slept night behind her, she was able to muster queenly grace into her voice.

"We only regret that the King was not able to be here with you. But perhaps he will join us soon", Léoma said, at which Lothíriel was able to smile somewhat. The older woman opened her arms in a welcoming gesture, "Do come inside, my lady! Dinner will be served shortly, but first I will show you your rooms."

The chambers she was taken were surprisingly warm and pleasant for such an intimidating fortress. The lady of the house appeared to have seen effort to make them as comfortable as possible: there were rugs on the floor and tapestries covered nearly all of the stone walls. One might almost be lead to believe one was in fact inside some Eorling lord's hall. A fire crackled away in the fireplace, and when Léoma saw her gaze fixing on it, she quickly explained: "The Hornburg can be cold and damp even in summer, and I wasn't certain if you were already accustomed to our cooler weathers, my lady."

"It was very thoughtful of you, Lady Léoma. Thank you", Lothíriel said and began to unbutton her riding coat. Certainly she had noticed a chill in the long hallways they had walked on their way there, and she shuddered when she thought what it must be like to live here during the winter. Abruptly she was glad to know at the time, she would be in Meduseld, warm and cozy.

"Your things should be brought up presently. Shall I send your maid in, my lady?" Léoma asked her then.

"Please do. But do you think you could send me a tray from the kitchens? I'm rather tired, and would most likely prove a disappointment to you if I was to join the dinner", she said, feeling dismay at the mere thought of having to sit through the supper trying to keep up a smiling face and participate in conversations.

"Of course, my lady Queen. Your journey has been a long one", Léoma said gently and curtsied again before heading out to give orders to servants.

Guthild came and went, helping Lothíriel out of her travelling clothes. Then the young queen sent her out, eager for some hours spent just in her own company. Of course, she was aware there was the danger of her earlier brooding thoughts overcoming her, but on the other hand she had no energy tonight to make effort and be sociable.

She had no particular appetite either, but managed to force down at least half of the meal sent to her from the kitchens. While she picked at food listlessly, darkness grew outside and the fortress seemed silent as a grave. She had never noticed it before, but stone was so _quiet._ Meanwhile, the Halls of Rohan, built and decorated with abundance of wood, were always full of small noises. Sometimes she felt like Meduseld was a living thing that breathed in and out.

 _Missing the Golden Hall, are you?_ thought came to her suddenly, making her startle on her seat. Lothíriel shook her head and decided she really must be quite exhausted.

Slowly, with time she couldn't usually afford these days, she got ready for the bed, though it was not yet late. She combed her hair and washed her face, idly wondering if she could ask for hot water in the morning.

But when she had picked up her small hand mirror, it accidentally slipped in her grip and instead of her face, she saw the reflection of her left arm in the surface of the looking glass. The bruises left by her would-be captor's hands were ugly shade of purple now, and she could see his fingerprints where he had grabbed her. A sick sensation turned in her stomach, but she had it under control when she fiercely reminded herself he was far away from her and would not be getting close ever again. No wonder the King's face had twisted so when he had seen these markings...

The false prince had been raiding the land for weeks before her lord husband had gone after him. And he had not gathered such a company, consisting of himself and his famed Marshal and their men, until the impostor's henchman had laid hands on her.

"It doesn't matter if he had a point or not", she said out loud and put aside the hand mirror. The fact remained he had interrupted the tour and ridden away, refusing to even talk about it with her.

Lothíriel had thought she would sleep like the dead that night, but her mind remained restless through the long dark hours. She startled awake often and most of her dreams were grim, consisting of the same scene where a faceless group of Riders carried the dead body of her lord husband and laid him before her feet. Around her, voices murmured it was her fault because she had not given him her blessing, and they said Béma hadn't considered him worthy of protection because she hadn't either. And then his pale ghost would haunt her steps, sighing in torment and staring at her with accusing eyes...

When she woke up early in the morning, she was sweating and shivering. The young queen flew up from the bed, as she didn't want to return to the realm of dreams for another moment. Thankfully, morning was advancing fast and she didn't need to wait long for Guthild's arrival.

Once Lothíriel had bathed and dressed, she joined Lady Léoma for breakfast.. She rather preferred it so, as it gave her a chance to find out more about the people living in these parts, and what she should expect.

They took the day's first meal in Léoma's little solar, and the abundance of food implied the older woman and her servants had seen great effort to make the young queen feel welcomed. So, though her appetite still hadn't returned, Lothíriel let her plate be filled with more food than she would have required.

Once they had their portions before them and mugs of hot tea, they were left alone. Léoma smiled warmly at her guest; with a slight gesture of her hand, she urged the dark-haired woman to go ahead and eat.

"I thought you would prefer a bit of privacy on your first morning here, my lady, seeing how tired you were last night. My two daughters are visiting us and they pleaded and begged with me to let them join us this morning. But perhaps you would like to meet them when our bellies are full?" said the Marshal's wife after they had eaten in silence for a moment.

"I'm thankful for your consideration, Lady Léoma. I have met so many people as of late that I simply cannot keep all their names and faces straight in my head anymore", Lothíriel answered with a tentative smile.

"Yes, I rather thought so", Léoma said with a slight nod. "Éomer must think very highly of you to take you to the tour so soon after your marriage, my lady."

At that, the young queen looked down. Yes, he thought so highly of her that he told her she was but an ignorant child straight to her face!

Erkenbrand's wife noticed something was amiss. Carefully she asked, "My lady, did I offend you somehow?"

"No, not at all. I'm just not sure he thinks so well of me", Lothíriel said softly, fighting the sensation of defeat that was growing somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Now she was even more thankful that Léoma had not allowed others to join them, because she could feel tears were not far and she absolutely could not break down before high ladies of this land.

"Surely he must, my lady!" Léoma insisted urgently. Then, seeming to realise the intensity of her tone, she added more softly, "Of course, I do not presume to know any man better than his wife does. But by all accounts I have heard so far, I had gathered that the King was well pleased with you."

"How did you reach that conclusion, Lady Léoma?" Lothíriel asked. Her curiosity and confusion were now growing greater than her trepidation. She grasped at those sensations almost desperately, wishing it would spare her from crying before this woman. While Erkenbrand's lady looked like a subtle and tactful woman, weeping was not going to leave a good impression.

"Let me put it this way, my lady", Léoma started slowly, but there was a slight smile on her features. "Éomer King was such a typical bachelor before he married you, my lady. And he has only known war for so long, and little of good and fair things. For months he refused to have anything changed in Meduseld, though Théoden was gone and everyone had thought that a new king would also usher in new things, and make the House of Kings as splendid as it once was. However, those months before he announced your betrothal, one might have thought the royal court was stuck in the dark days before the war, as though Wormtongue's shadow was still keeping it in his grip. But now I hear the Golden Hall of the King has once more become a warm and welcoming place where guests are kept well and the household is happy and content. There is light and life in the King's Hall again. And my husband Erkenbrand tells me that the King has been on a better mood than in years. He is not blind or a fool, my lady – he must have seen these things, too, and know it is because of you."

Lothíriel listened to this account in silence. Had she heard this before the events in Elmstoke, she would have been more than glad. However, her latest exchange with the King shadowed these well-meant words, and her heart was not lifted.

"I thank you for telling me this, Lady Léoma. It does seem I have been able to do some good since my coming to Rohan", she stated at length, more collected now. She sighed and cleared her throat, "Nevertheless, even if every man, woman and child in this land came to tell me I have done well as a queen, but my lord husband would not utter such words to me in person, then I cannot consider my efforts successful."

"I cannot guess what his reasons are, my lady, and I know it's not easy to be married to someone bearing such burdens as he does. But my husband Erkenbrand knows him well, and in his behalf I can only tell you this: don't give up on him yet, my Queen", Léoma said softly, her eyes solemn and wide. "I'm sure you are well aware that you are the first queen this land has seen in a very long time. Yet I do not know if you understand how much we _need_ you."

Lothíriel did not know what to say to that. Yes, many times now she had been told how the land had lacked a lady for so long, but no one had ever said that she was badly needed.

She breathed in and out and met Léoma's eyes again, feeling strangely calm as though a mariner staring at a storm while knowing his ship and his skill are strong enough to get through it.

"Very well. I can be patient", she said at length, but did not add: _but I need him to do his part, too._

The Marshal's wife smiled at her and looked like she had got some stone from her heart. The two women ate in silence for a moment, until Léoma spoke again.

"My lady, I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour", she began tentatively, laying down her mug of tea.

"What is it?" Lothíriel asked and pushed her plate from her – she was already quite stuffed.

"You see, when the King announced the tour and we heard you and him would be coming to the Hornburg, then many of the people living in villages decided to travel here too. Many of them have come because they have matters and concerns they would like to present to the King, and ask for his judgement. However, due to the deeds of that impostor, our lord is now away and it's not certain when and if he will actually come", Léoma explained, leaning forward in her chair.

Before Lothíriel had time to ask what this had to do with her, the older woman continued, "My lady, it is uncertain the small folk gathered here can make it to Edoras and have their cases heard there – harvest is coming and not all can leave their homesteads to make the journey to the capital. So, I am asking if you could receive these people instead and treat their cases. You are our queen, after all."

Lothíriel did not need to consider this for long – she knew almost immediately what her answer would be. However, there was one thing she needed to point out.

"It would be an honour, Lady Léoma. But while I have done my best to study the laws and traditions of this land, they are still new to me", she said carefully; she knew she couldn't just jump at this opportunity, no matter how much it tempted her.

The fair-haired woman smiled and nodded.

"My lady, it happens that Lord Gamling is here too. He knows our laws and is trusted by the King. I'm sure he would be glad to advise you. And I am at your disposal, of course", Léoma answered. Her response had Lothíriel smiling: here was her chance at last!

"In that case, I agree. Send word that I will be receiving whoever has business with the crown this afternoon", said the young queen. The idea did not frighten her – rather, she was thrilled to finally have a chance to try herself and her knowledge. She didn't know whether her lord husband would approve of her taking matters to her own hands like this, but she wouldn't be letting him and his opinions stop her. After all, he had not asked for her approval when he had ridden out, either! It was like Léoma had said: she was the queen of this land and she had every right to rule in the King's name while he was absent. And he would be sorry if he tried to scold her for it!

* * *

After breakfast, Léoma introduced the young queen to her daughters and a company of women of this part of the realm. The occasion was similar to earlier meetings during the tour, and Lothíriel knew to expect many of the questions she received. Heartened by her conversation with the lady of the Hornburg, she found it easy again to play the role of a perfect, serene queen, much unlike her uneasy mood when she had woken up.

The ladies then took her to see the rest of the fortress, filling her ears with stories about this place and the people who had lived inside these walls.

But as afternoon began to grow closer, she excused herself from their company and returned to her chamber to make herself more formal for the audience. She chose a dress of pale blue with silver embroideries, and Guthild made one of her more intricate braiding arrangement into her hair. Checking the end result in her hand mirror as much as it allowed, Lothíriel felt like she could face all the courts of the world. Abruptly she felt disappointed the King was not here to see her shine.

She shook her head. It was good he wasn't present, for she was done standing in his shadow and waiting for him to throw her a bone. And after his disrespectful treatment of her, she was not going to just lay down and wait for him to relent.

It was then she heard a knock at the door, and Lord Gamling's voice spoke through: "My lady? The people have arrived and the hall is full."

"Good luck", Guthild said with a smile and made a shooing gesture towards the door. The young queen took a deep breath, reminded herself she was ready and prepared for this, and then stepped outside the chamber.

Lord Gamling was there with Lady Léoma, and several Riders accompanied them. They bowed their heads when she appeared, and then the silver-haired man offered to escort her to the hall.

It was a wide and high place, with tall windows that looked over the Deep. It was rather chilly, too, even though it was summer. Lothíriel was silently glad she had taken along her shawl, made of soft white wool. She was sure to get cold without it, as sitting in one position allowed little movement. Dwellers of this place had tried to bring some warmth and life to the hall with rich hangings and pennants, but wherever stone showed, it bore the hand-print of Sea-kings of old.

The crowd was chattering in soft voices that echoed in the high vaults, but when Lord Gamling's esquire announced the arrival of the Queen of the Mark, the conversations died. Curious eyes turned towards the company that now entered, but Lothíriel met them calmly and with the faintest suggestion of a smile. At this point, the motions and gestures were familiar to her and she glided through it with ease. Lothíriel couldn't help but feel some pleasure at finding out how well this mantle sat on her shoulders.

A seat had been prepared for her and she took it, arranging her skirts around her feet and gazing around the people who had come to seek for an audience. Few of them she had seen before, and wondered briefly what they made of their new queen – if she met their expectations at all.

But then she lifted her voice and spoke her greetings in the tongue of Rohan, and Lothíriel saw many of them look at her in surprise, and it seemed to be of a positive kind. This reaction rather encouraged her and she spoke more evenly, grasping at the words of the northern tongue in growing confidence. This was the moment she had been waiting for, and she would make sure no one left this hall thinking she was disinterested or indifferent towards her new home land.

The previous audiences had prepared her for this fairly well, for the matters brought to her attention were mostly similar to the cases she had witnessed her lord husband treating. She remembered how he had received them and what had been his answers; though keeping up with everything during the tour had often been difficult, she had always followed the audiences and courts of justice keenly and diligently. Even so, there were moments she had to glance at Lord Gamling, who stood next to her chair, either for a translation or counsel. Then he would lean closer and whisper his advice to her, readily citing this or that law she was not familiar with yet.

And then she understood: she did know her lord husband. At least in this one thing, she had an inkling of how he thought as a ruler of Rohan, and what he would say to whatever case she was presented with. She had listened to his policies enough to know them, and to be able to steer the course to a direction that would be in line with his plans.

Altogether it went very well, Lothíriel thought to herself when she had called for a pause so that she could get a drink and a quick bite; since they were here now, she saw no reason not to continue until dinner.

Lord Gamling and Léoma accompanied her to a small antechamber beyond the hall, and Erkenbrand's wife sent a servant to bring them some refreshments before they'd return to continue the audience.

"My lady, I must admit your performance rather impressed me. I had heard good things about you, but in that hall I might have thought you have been our queen for much longer than just few months. Pray tell, how have you learned our laws so well? In fact, it almost sounded like Éomer himself had told you what stance he would take", the old Rider wondered out loud. It both pleased her, to know she had been able to follow the Rohirric law as though she knew it much better than she actually did, but it also troubled her in a strange way. She didn't just want to be a mouthpiece for her lord husband. Obviously, she still had much to learn, and ways to go to find her own voice. Only then could she have a genuine presence as the Queen of the Riddermark. Until then, this was a good start.

"I have been listening to the King give his verdicts for a few months now. It's not difficult to learn from that", she stated at length, stretching her limbs after sitting in one position for so long.

"Even so", Lord Gamling said, though his tone was softer now, "It's a short time to take in so much and put it to use like you just did, my lady."

"I'm sister to Amrothos", she said wryly, but her smile was fond. "Believe me, you won't find anyone in the western lands who is more practised at listening people talk and remembering their words."

Lord Gamling did not seem to know what to think, but Léoma laughed.

"Bless the women of Middle-earth and spare them from overly talkative kinsmen!" said the blonde woman and shook her head in amusement, "though in your case, my lady, you seem to have turned that into a strength."

To herself, Lothíriel thought she had indeed grown up with the most outspoken man in Belfalas, only to be married to the most quiet one in the north. If that was not a joke on her expense, she was not sure what was. But of this she said nothing to her company; she merely smiled and made an idle comment on how one had to do such things in order to stay sane in a family like hers, and then the refreshments arrived. They still had a few hours of audiences ahead of them, and she would do well not to allow her mind to wander.

* * *

Lothíriel had expected time to go slowly in the Hornburg while she waited for her lord husband to return. Mostly this was because she had thought she'd spend her time fuming in righteous anger at how insolently he had treated her. Well, she didn't exactly forget about her injury, and she fully meant to make it known to him once he came back, but for the most of the time she was too distracted to dwell on it over much.

Meetings continued with the local folk, and even some of the noble families came to see the new queen in the Hornburg. Together with Léoma, she entertained the ladies and organised a luncheon for them, much like she often did in Edoras. A few formal dinners there were too, and knowing her Gondorian ways were an unusual strain on the household, she promised the Lady of the Hornburg to send goods to replace whatever had been taken from store rooms during her stay. She was aware the stronghold was usually better supplied, but the burning of Westfold by Saruman's orcs had impacted all important settlements in this part of the realm, and were not yet recovered from the ordeals of war. As friendship bloomed between her and Léoma, Lothíriel grew more and more convinced she should not leave an impression of herself being wasteful and irresponsible, waltzing in to throw a few parties and then leaving when the pantries were empty. She would take the coin from the upkeep of her lord husband, damn it, if need be; it would serve him right, having left her here while he rode off to play war.

All of her time was not spent in the Hornburg. She visited some major spots of the Battle of Helm's Deep and admired the Glittering Caves, where it was rumoured Gimli of Durin's Folk planned to establish a new Dwarven colony. Lothíriel also rode to see one of the burned villages which had not been rebuilt; at the quiet ruins where ash still swirled around the blackened remains of what had once been homes, she felt cold and uneasy.

Lothíriel rode out often and not just on official business. Guthild, being a native of this part of the kingdom and thus knowing the land very well, acted as her guide and took her to see many new places they would have not been able to visit with a royal entourage behind them. This was also one of the first times she had to put down her foot and use her authority as the Queen. For Lord Gamling was not pleased with her riding out so much, even if she took guards with her every time.

"My lady, it's not safe while the issue with the impostor continues – especially when he already has threatened you once", he stated awkwardly when Lothíriel was making ready for another riding trip.

"Lord Gamling, I'm sure it will be perfectly safe. I hardly think he will have time to pursue me when my lord husband is hot on his heels", she said confidently, fastening the lacings of her riding boots. Those she had purchased after her first month in Rohan, having seen her old ones were absolutely insufficient in these conditions.

"But my lady Queen, it still leaves the matter of Dunlendings. They too would greatly benefit from catching the King's wife in their nets", the old Rider attempted, his brow creasing in concern.

"Hasn't the overwhelming agreement among the folk I've met been that the Dunlendings have not crossed the Isen ever since they were defeated in Helm's Deep? Why should they break the truce now?" Lothíriel asked back and considered whether she should take her cloak or not. The day was warm, yes, but the wind of the plains could be unpredictable.

He looked at her with ever increasing discomfort, and then spoke softly, "The express command of the King was to keep you safe, my lady."

"And my express command is to stop acting like he's not being a paranoid fool, Lord Gamling", Lothíriel said steadily and met the old man's eyes as calmly as any of the people who came to seek for her time. He gazed at her in bewilderment and didn't seem to know what to say, and his expression seemed a bit like he was only now seeing her fully.

With a slight smile, she moved forward and touched his arm, "Don't worry, my lord Gamling. If he throws a fit, then I will deal with it."

And with that, she left the room and headed down into the courtyard, where her horse was ready and Guthild was waiting for her, excited for another trip to the rich hills of Westfold.

Lothíriel much enjoyed going out with the serving maid, feeling the wind on her face and racing over the green plains. But deep down she was aware she was making many of these riding trips to spite the King, which was perhaps an immature thing to do, but on the other hand she had to make it absolutely clear both to him and his people that she was not going to be coddled and hidden away at his pleasure. If it made him angry – well, she'd deal with it like she had told Lord Gamling. After enduring so many stoic silences from the man, his anger seemed like a refreshing change. Perhaps it was also a way to crack his walls.

The messenger from her lord husband arrived on Lothíriel's fifth day in the Hornburg. She was with Léoma when one of the guards of the fortress came to announce the arrival of the Rider, and that he had some tidings for the Queen. With a curtsy and a smile, Léoma suggested she use her solar, and once she had gone, the messenger stepped inside.

Anxiously she searched his face, wondering what kind of news he was bringing. No matter how angry she was, there was still a dread that the King had been injured during the hunt. How strange it was, to feel both the throbbing ache of her injured pride and the worry over her life's companion! Even so, to relief the messenger's expression did not seem to imply he was bringing any grave tidings – rather, he was smiling as he approached and bowed before her.

"What news from the King?" she asked him, eager to put an end to the waiting, and uneasy for what she was about to hear.

"My lady, I bring good tidings from him. After tracking the impostor and his band for three days, he and Lord Erkenbrand have slain or captured the entire band. The false prince has been taken as prisoner. The crown may rest easy once more", the Rider said with a smile.

"And is he all right? He wasn't injured?" she asked, the question slipping out of her mouth before her anger stifled it.

"The King is well. I don't think the impostor's men had real chance of hurting him, my lady. You see, after their failed attack in Elmstoke, they were in serious disarray, and several of them were injured. Best they could do was flee and disperse, hoping that at least few of them might escape the pursuers. However, the King and the Marshal hunted them relentlessly through the wild and eventually caught them all. Some were indeed killed, but most were captured and sent to Edoras, where Éomer King may get to bottom of this thing and put it to rest for good", the messenger explained.

"And what about the night they attacked at Elmstoke? Did my lord husband find out anything new?" she asked, aware that her voice came out thinner than usual.

"Aye, he did. It seems that the impostor had some inside help. A kinswoman of his works at Lord Eanulf's hall, and she provided them with some vital information about the town and where to find you, my lady. But the King has not yet discovered if she was helping out willingly, or if she was pressured into it", he answered.

"What about the villain himself? Has this impostor yet talked or given any reasons for his actions?" Lothíriel wanted to know, her hands pressing tighter and tighter into fists.

"Not that I know of, my lady. But you may remain reassured – the impostor and his band will be brought to justice", said the Rider.

"Say... did the King send any word for me?" she asked then, soft and uncertain. She couldn't say which alternative she wanted more: that he wouldn't have send any private message to her, or that the Rider he had dispatched had also come to apologise in his behalf. Once more, two sides were at war within her.

"No, my lady. But he has instructed those of Lord Erkenbrand's men who escorted you here to take you back to him. He is eager to get to Edoras and treat to the matter of the impostor. If it please you, lady Queen, we could ride out tomorrow and meet the King and the Riders with him on the road to the capital", he said.

For the longest time, all she could do was _fume._ So this was how it was going to be, then? He was going to continue to handle her like an object instead of a person, too proud and stubborn to consider her point of view. Was this how drowning felt like? For it surely seemed like waves were closing over her head, pushing her down no matter how hard she struggled. Oh, Elbereth! At the same time, it was so small, and yet it meant _everything._

But she mastered her anger soon enough and in an even voice, Lothíriel dismissed the messenger and told him to go and get something to eat from the kitchens. But she headed out alone, desiring some peace to process the roaring flames that seemed to engulf the insides of her head. The sun was westering when she climbed to the great parapets of the keep and the wind breathed gently in the deep. Guards passed by her, bowing their heads and muttering their greetings, which she answered with a hollow smile.

Eventually, she stopped and leaned her forearms against the wall as she gazed into the deep and thought about past six months. What had it felt like back in Dol Amroth, when her mind had not been so full of all this noise? To have such a clear purpose before her? Now she wasn't so sure anymore of where she was going... where she stood with the man she had married.

Lothíriel sighed and closed her eyes. Wind came and combed through her hair, and for a while she was able to drown in the moment, just feeling sunlight and wind on her face and think of nothing.

The calm came to a close by the sound of approaching feet. Lothíriel opened her eyes and saw Guthild approaching her.

"My lady? Is everything all right?" asked the maid, wearing concerned look on her face.

"I'm fine. I just needed a moment alone", said the young queen and stared down into the deep again. She sighed and glanced at the blonde woman as she came to her side, "I know what you must think – that I came here to sulk because he was right."

"I don't think that, my lady", Guthild said, resting her hands on the wall, and Lothíriel could feel her eyes on herself. The maid carried on, "though it doesn't mean I do know why you came here. I thought you would be relieved that those bandits have been caught."

"And I am relieved, Guthild. It's just..." Lothíriel started, frowning as she sought for words. "It's just that I don't know what happens now."

She gazed down for a second before speaking again, "Guthild, I'm not angry because it looks like he was right to go after the impostor. It's not about which one of us was correct after all – being wrong I could easily take. But Guthild, now he's going to be convinced he was right to go about it the way he did, and he's going to think there's no reason he should ever listen to me. I feel humiliated, much more than I ever would if it was simply because I wasn't right. And I would have blessed him and sent him on his way with my approval if he just had taken a moment to explain his point of view to me. If he had made me feel like he took my side to consideration. But instead, he shot me down like he thought me no better than a hapless child."

"My lady..." Guthild said, her eyes wide and wondering. But Lothíriel let out a frustrated sound and she turned, collapsing to sit on the parapet and leaning her back against the wall.

In a restless downpour of words she continued, "And now he thinks I was trying to keep him from going, and I can't stop thinking of how wrong everything I said was... I see now it only fuelled his stubbornness and now he's never going to listen to me again. I'm so angry with him I want to scream!"

Before she knew it, tears blurred her eyes. It was so obvious now what she should have done: she ought to have made her case with a level head and demand him to state his reasons. Maybe then he'd have understood she wasn't asking him to stay, but to _hear._ And to make things worse, she had denied him her blessing, and for all she knew it could have made him resent her.

Guthild sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her gently.

"It's all right. I understand now why you are angry. But don't give up yet – the man is famous for his temper, but not for holding grudges. Well, at least against those who don't deserve it. All you wanted was being shown the basic courtesy", the maid spoke gently.

"Yes. And I don't want to fight with him – I want to be a good queen and help him to rebuild this land and make it strong again. But how can I do that when I'm still trying to find my voice, and he's barely helping me to discover it? And it's so hard when I'm losing hope of ever getting through to him", Lothíriel said, words tumbling out before she even knew it.

"I wish I knew what to tell you", Guthild murmured softly. "Just... don't give up."

It was a good thing to say – a _right_ thing to say. But Lothíriel found no comfort in the words of her maid.

 _I'm losing hope._

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's an update for Tuesday! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

No Éomer in this one, but I thought is absence was rather necessary for Lothíriel to go through this thought process while he's gone. I think she needed some time alone to figure out what exactly happened at Elmstoke and the impact of those events on their relationship. She has been patient with him, but it's starting to look like if he doesn't bend soon, he may lose her.

As this chapter hopefully shows you, Lothíriel's reaction in last chapter wasn't so much about because she wanted to be in the right. Her wish was just to be heard, but because they don't communicate properly, they only make each other very angry.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **EStrunk -** I imagine it woke you up at least! :D You were right to suggest there was inside help - indeed, they wouldn't have found her so quickly otherwise.

As for their confrontation, I'm not sure Lothíriel had a chance to take it anywhere private. Éomer was being very stubborn and domineering, and it's not certain he'd have listened her long enough to take it somewhere else - though she does grudgingly admit she might have had better success in getting through to him if she had remained calm and made her case logically. They were both stubborn and temperamental in that scene, and having so little idea of how to deal with one another doesn't help either of them.

 **Katia0203 -** Glad to hear that! I must say she has grown on me, too. :) And you are absolutely right - both of them were being stubborn, and if they had just talked about it calmly, they could have figured it out. I think Lothíriel would have been glad to bend if he had not been so overbearing.

 **Anon -** Yes, it's a difficult situation. And you are correct to assume Lothíriel would feel responsible if he got hurt during the hunt. But how and if this situation will be resolved... well, wait and see! ;)

 **inperfection -** Thank you! I hope it wasn't stressful in a bad way. :)

 **Rinarwen -** RIGHT. Frantic Éomer both kills me but at the same time, he's so fun to write when he's so full of emotion!

Also glad to hear Lothíriel standing up for herself does please at least someone!

 **Kizermark -** Thank you so much! :)

 **Jo -** Happy to hear you think so! I do think neither of them is entirely wrong, but they're just so awkward with one another they don't know how to talk it through.

 **sailor68 -** Glad you liked it! :) I truly enjoyed writing that part of the chapter. You are correct to say this situation won't be easily fixed. Both of them will have to work around their stubborn pride to hear the other.

 **Nerdanel -** Happy to hear you enjoyed it! Balanced action and romance is hard to write well, and usually I'm just a total sucker for romance, like you! And yes, it's usually more exciting to read (and to write) if there's occasional friction! I'm very flattered to hear I've managed to capture characters so well. :)

 **Catspector -** Yes, she's a tough one in this story! I don't think Éomer fully understood what kind of a woman he was marrying. :)

 **Anthi35 -** Thank you! Glad to hear you enjoyed them. :)

 **Sincos is the Bomb -** Thanks! I believe we'll have to see the full impact of her actions in the upcoming chapter(s)!


	7. A Match for the Spirit

**A Match for the Spirit**

The Queen and her escort left the Hornburg the next morning. Lothiriel had considered acting difficult and refusing to leave, if only to spite her lord husband, but she quickly decided it would be a most childish course of action and the most inconvenience it would case would be to the ordinary Riders speeding back and forth between the quarrelsome king and queen. They were hardly guilty for her troubles. She fumed in silence, but showed only smiles and courtesy to Léoma and rest of the household for the short time she had left in the stronghold.

And when preparations had been made and her escort was ready to leave, she took her leave of the Lady of the Hornburg. Léoma hugged her tightly and insisted her to come visit some time. The young queen smiled but made no promises. Right now, she was too uncertain of her future to plan further ahead than this afternoon.

It was a windy day and clouds were driven over the West-Mark from the east, growing heavier and darker as they advanced. Glumly she thought it would surely be fitting for her mood, if they were to travel in rain. Her guards did not seem to mind, though; they didn't appear so tense, nor did they swarm around her like she was the queen bee. But she guessed they were relieved now that the impostor had been caught, and did not think it necessary to keep so close to her.

They kept up good pace, as Folcred hoped to join with the King's Company by midday. Lothíriel had dismissed Guthild from her side and rode alone, for her mind was too troubled to try and keep up with the maid's chatter. In her chest, a weight had been growing evenly since the morning, a confusing mixture of pain and anger and dread. What would happen when the King arrived? Would he be angry with her, too? Would he apologise? Whatever went down, she needed to be strong. She couldn't let him walk over her and act like nothing had happened. However, what could she do to make him understand? Her upbringing may have prepared her to manage a household and rule a kingdom, but not to change the mind of a stubborn man.

Like Folcred had hoped, the midday was at hand when one of the outriders arrived, saying the King's Company was not far off now. The escort slowed down to let them catch up. Indeed, soon enough Lothíriel could see the band of Riders approaching, and she spotted the royal banner and not far from it flew the white horsetail of his helmet. She chewed her lip anxiously and followed the advance of the party of her lord husband, knowing her will would soon be tried again.

With the swiftness of the Rohirric horses, it did not take long for the two companies to meet. Riders exclaimed greetings to their brothers in arms and tidings were exchanged, filling the place with bustle and noise. But Lothíriel sat straighter in her saddle and watched quietly, until she saw the King looking at her. His eyes were wary and his face shrouded, but he said nothing. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her chin and turned away as though she was not aware of his presence. If he couldn't be bothered to tell her he was sorry, or even greet her properly, then why should she give him her good graces?

"Let's get going. It's still a long way to Edoras", he said then, and his voice was hard and cool. She was sure the tone matched his expression well, but Lothíriel refused to look at him. Her mouth a thin line, she kept her eyes fixed in horizon; tiniest voice at the back of her head wondered how this icy reunion might look like to his men, but she stifled that idea quickly. If the man could not bend himself to apologising or at least acknowledging his conduct had been discourteous towards her, then she wasn't going to cover his mess for him!

The company returned to the riding. The wind was increasing and it was not long that Lothíriel felt the first drops of rain on her cheeks. She grimaced and thought that sunshine would have been too good anyway, and she pulled the hood of her cloak to cover her head.

Rain came down almost ceaselessly until nightfall, sometimes harder and sometimes turning into soft drizzle. The young queen felt rather miserable as she tried to shelter herself from the weather, but the wind kept tugging at her cloak and exposing her to the rain. She kept her complaints to herself, though: everyone in the company was enduring the same circumstances with brave faces, and she wasn't going to fall second to these tough Rohirrim.

The night brought no relief: camp was made in continuing rain and even the tent was damp and chilly. Lothíriel ate very little that night and went to bed early, but the howling wind outside and the patter of rain against the canvas kept her awake. Curled up under the blankets, she felt lonelier than ever.

And though she hated herself for succumbing to it, she couldn't stop the desperate tears when they at last took over her.

* * *

After two unpleasant days on the road, the royal tour was finally at an end. As the company made for the capital of Rohan, Lothíriel did not know what was her chief emotion – disappointment, grief, or anger. She had been so hopeful for the tour, meeting Rohirrim and seeing the land for the first time, but now all that hope was gone. People and the land itself had been charming and fascinating, and so the manner of her return was even more at odds against what she had thought to feel this moment.

She had not spoken with the King during the journey home, and he had effectively avoided her. Things had never been easy with him, but now it felt like there was a sheer wall of ice between them, and neither were willing to try and scale it. For her, it was a matter of pride that she didn't back down – if she did, giving in and letting him have his way would be just that much easier the next time they disagreed. However, what she had not expected was how very miserable it made her feel.

Being able to make that last stretch of the journey demanded the amount of self-control she hadn't known she had. A crawling sensation went back and forth on her skin and there was a slowly rising sensation of wanting to throw up. But though it was slow torture, Lothíriel kept her face a mask of tranquillity, and she stared ahead with unseeing eyes. Meanwhile, the shouts of welcome of the folk of Edoras sounded distant, but she lifted her hand in greeting every now and then. Once or twice she even managed a smile.

In the courtyard of Meduseld, she quickly dismounted and left her horse with the esquire, and even though he was out of her sight now, she remained sharply aware of where the King was standing. He was so close, she could just have taken a few steps towards him and told him how horrible this situation was, but he had made his choice – he had turned his back on her, and he had given no sign he thought it had been wrong.

Lothíriel swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in her throat without her noticing. She pursed her lips and gestured Guthild to follow. The maid had mostly left her alone for the journey home, sensing the young queen was no in mood for talks. Nevertheless, at times Lothíriel had seen the worried look on Guthild's face when the other woman thought she didn't notice.

She strode swiftly through the courtyard and climbed the stairs. Up on the terrace, Gytha was waiting and there was a welcoming smile on her face. But when Lothíriel came and their eyes met, the smile disappeared.

"What's wrong, my lady?" Gytha asked in concern, lifting her hand as though to reach for the young queen, but stopping the motion in the middle of it.

"Not now. Please send tea to the royal chambers", Lothíriel said stiffly and brushed inside.

She walked through the Hall quickly, and though she was nearing the limits of her endurance, she was able to greet and smile at the familiar faces she saw on her way. It didn't even help much to notice how many of them appeared genuinely happy to see her. Scýne was there too, and she eagerly said she wanted to hear everything about the tour, but at that point Lothíriel's smile became pained and she muttered _"maybe some time"_. She didn't stand back to see her friend's face turn into confusion.

The royal chambers were as she had left them. The rooms had been kept clean and aired, wood was waiting next to the fireplace, and someone had brought fresh flowers to welcome them back. But Lothíriel hardly felt any pleasure at these homely sights. She simply headed for the bedchamber and left her cloak on the back of a chair, and waited for Guthild to help her out of the travelling clothes.

The maid silently worked over the laces of her clothes and folded the stained riding gown while Lothíriel kicked off her heavy boots. She slipped on a pearl grey dress and Guthild buttoned it up. Tea was brought like she had requested, but glancing at the pot and cups, the young queen felt suddenly like anything she tried to force down her throat she would just throw up.

When they were done, the maid looked at her as though she wanted to say something, and the young woman's face was deeply concerned. But Lothíriel conjured a smile and said, "Why don't you go and make sure they get my things safely into the Hall?"

"As you wish, my lady", Guthild said and curtsied before she hurried out. Her uncertain manner couldn't have been more different from the spirit she had shown during the tour, especially in Elmstoke. But then, Lothíriel felt like everyone around her had just backed away, as though she turned the very air she breathed into ice.

With a heavy sigh she fell to sit by her dressing table and put her head in her hands. She felt so weary, so sad, and so unhappy. It seemed that no matter how she tried, she could never be the queen she had so wanted to become. Should she just give up, then? Let herself fade and become a part of the furniture in this Hall, rather than a shining light in its heart? Her mind rebelled at the idea, knowing that even in failure she was not made to diminish in such a way. Nevertheless, what she had before her was a dead end and she saw no way out of it, not when the King apparently had no interest in changing his mind. They were both too proud and stubborn and neither of them was going to bend.

Maybe it was foolish to keep on going in such a situation. But how to admit defeat? That was not in her nature. If he just...

Lothíriel cut the wings of that thought very quickly and followed another one. There was still one thing she could do, and if it was not enough to move him, then perhaps this union had been doomed from start.

Behind her, she heard the door opening and closing. She knew the heavy steps that moved through the rooms and came to the bedchamber, and she straightened on her seat. She was glad that she hadn't cried, because that would just have been the perfect addition to this catastrophe.

The King stood at the doorway. He had removed his armour and was arrayed in breeches and a linen shirt, which she recognised as one of the first she had made for him as a new wife on her earliest weeks in Edoras. How diligently she had stitched away in firelight, using the fine linen she had brought from Dol Amroth, and wondered if he would like the little embroideries she had made along the neckline! There he stood in the finest fabric Belfalas could offer, and his face was a mask like it always was around her. _Not always,_ a voice whispered at the back of her head and reminded her of Elmstoke, but she smothered it quickly. She took a deep breath.

"My lord, I would like to go and visit my family in Dol Amroth", she announced in a loud, clear voice. She knew this was the worst thing she could say from his point of view; they had been married for few months and she was already planning to go back to her home in the south! It would be a scandal, but she was past caring.

"If that is your desire, then I won't try to stop you", he said in a low, toneless voice, and for a moment she thought that was all they were going to say to each other. But then, all without her expectation, he spoke again, "But... I wish that you didn't go."

Hearing his words, her anger flamed all of a sudden.

"You don't wish that? Because you need someone to take care of your hall and keep your bed warm?" Lothíriel asked sharply, sitting straight as a stick on her chair.

"No", he answered, and the word came out strong and swift. "I don't want you to go because I would miss you."

Struck silent by his answer, Lothíriel stared at him in confusion. He would... miss her? She wanted to believe it so badly, but after all these months she couldn't just leave it at that.

"How would you miss somebody you hardly even talk to?" she asked him, trying for the same anger as before, but not quite managing it because of her confusion. But the point was entirely valid, and she needed him to answer this question.

He stood unspeaking, and there it was again, that wall of silence she wanted to tear down for good. However, this time he put it aside himself.

Her lord husband came to her and lowered himself on one knee before her. He picked up her hands and planted a kiss on the knuckles of each fist, while Lothíriel sat and stared in bewilderment. Would this man ever start making sense to her?

"I am a fool, aren't I?" he said in a quiet, soft voice. It did nothing for her perplexed mind, and while she was still wondering about his words and actions, he looked up at her and spoke again, "I am sorry for my behaviour. And I apologise for walking away in Elmstoke. It was wrong to treat you so."

She blinked and struggled for words, until she managed to speak, "And did you come to that conclusion only now?"

"No. I knew it was wrong the moment I turned my back to you. But I was too proud to admit it then", he answered in a clear, steady voice. How confidently he announced his failure! In a bit softer tone he continued, "After that, when our companies reunited on the plains, I didn't know how to express myself, especially when your reaction was so icy and spiteful. So I got angry again and it blinded me, until..."

"Until what?" she coaxed, eager to get him to talk now that he had finally opened his mouth.

"Until we came home and I saw Gytha. She came to me five minutes after our arrival, and she said that unless I came to you at once and opened up, I was going to lose you. And to tell you the truth, I could endure the loss of many things but not yours", said her husband, and in that moment she saw dread and pain in his eyes.

For a minute, she didn't know what to say, and all she could do was just marvel at this moment. Was this truly happening? Was he actually _talking_ to her, and saying that he cared about her enough to want her to stay?

"I didn't think you listened to anybody", Lothíriel said at last in a soft, unsure voice. Her statement made him smile wryly, and for a second the agonised look in his eyes subsided.

"Often I don't. Gytha is an exception", he said and kissed her hand again. Then he looked up at her once more, "My lady, I realise I have been a terrible husband, and I do not blame you for wanting to go back to your family. But... may I ask you for a little more patience? If you want me to, I can try and explain the reason I have caused you a disappointment."

How could she reject that offer? If he was finally ready to talk, then she wasn't going to turn away. At any rate, it would be easier to start with a conversation than organising an escort to Dol Amroth.

"Very well then", she aid at last, and one corner of his mouth rose briefly. He stood up and tugged her hand gently, at which Lothíriel got on her feet as well. She followed him to sit on the edge of the bed. There they settled side by side, and the young queen felt her heart racing in some unfathomable emotion. All her anguish of before now seemed so far away, and instead she was curious and hopeful. Maybe there was still a chance to mend this relationship.

"My lady Lothíriel", he began to speak, his eyes downcast and fixed on some point she couldn't discern. "I cannot say I was very eager for marriage when I first became a king. I knew it was expected of me, but there were so many things that seemed more important at the time, and I have been alone for so long that I did not think myself a good companion for any young lady. Certainly I didn't think to be so lucky as Éowyn was with Faramir."

"But then your father wrote to me, suggesting a match between our Houses. I could see it was a sensible idea, and it would strengthen the alliance between our lands. Even so, I admit I mostly agreed to entertain it because of my regard to your father. He is my friend and I couldn't just refuse his proposition without even meeting you. But I had my doubts; during my previous visits to Gondor, I had heard the whispers behind my back... I had seen how they looked at me and Éowyn at times, like we were no better than savages living in the gutter. I feared you would hold that notion rather than be of a like mind with your father and brothers", he spoke slowly, and his voice was soft and low. Lothíriel listened quietly and eagerly, almost to the point of holding her breath. For all that time she had ached to hear him speak to her of his thoughts, and now it was pouring out in such sincerity... she knew then he didn't often open his heart to others, making each word a gift.

"And then came that night we first met, and there you stood at your father's side... I have never been more nervous to look upon a woman! But then I saw your eyes, and in them I perceived good-natured curiosity instead of distaste. You were every bit the lady your father had described, graceful and dignified and wise.. even if I should send my men to search all the western realms, they wouldn't find your equal anywhere. Immediately I knew I had been wrong to doubt you. And to tell you the truth, my dear wife, from the moment I laid my eyes on you, I wanted you to become my queen", said her king and he looked at her now, his eyes wide and sad and deep. Here before her was a man who had lost his family, whose mother had refused to see him because the resemblance he bore to his father – a lad who had grown up too soon, looking after a young sister, training and fighting to become a Marshal and giving up his youth for the sake of duty, and living for so long believing he had nothing but the strength of his back and arm.

"But there was also such dismay as I had only rarely felt until then", he continued, unaware of her racing thoughts. "For I saw you, Lothíriel – your grace, your pride, your shining light, and at once I knew I was not your match. What could I give you in return, the unrefined man that I was? And so I felt that if I opened up and let you close, if I spoke too much, you would see how crass and ill-mannered I was in comparison, and you would refuse me", he stated, sounding heavier now than before. The sadness in his eyes grew and she wanted nothing as much as to hold him tight. But Lothíriel also knew all of this had to get out first, and they both needed these words.

"And yet... the more I came to know you, the more I wanted you. Not merely as a lady to manage my hall, but as someone who might look upon me with love one day", King Éomer said, sounding like he thought it was a foolish idea. But Lothíriel bit back her gasp and looked down, fighting what could only be tears.

"Then against all my expectations, you agreed to marry me, and you came to my land in all your glory. I felt like the man who has stolen the lights from the sky! Yet even then I couldn't be glad, because I was so terrified of when you'd realise you had made a mistake. I wondered what you must be thinking, and if you thought you had married the coldest man in the Riddermark, but you took all that more bravely than I would ever have expected. All the same, the day you came into my courts and took the position of the queen, it was as though a new sun had begun to shine in Meduseld. In silence I watched and listened, often without you noticing, and each moment proved a bit more how right I had been about you. Indeed, I had found a woman of high heart and grace, and I was falling for you in the shadows", he said, reaching to brush hair from her face, and she wanted to kiss him so badly that it was like a physical ache. But she still remained motionless, for she sensed his explanation was not yet at an end.

"But even after you had agreed to marry me and we had made our vows, I didn't know how to approach you. What could I possibly say to you that wouldn't make you think of me as a savage war-lord who didn't understand fair and good things as you did? For you were a daughter of peace and spring, while I have belonged with war and winter too many years. And I began to fear that you would start to regret our union, and demand to go back to your own land. My sweet queen, few things scare me as much as the idea of you leaving Edoras... leaving me", he said, heaving a deep, melancholy sigh. Quietly she marvelled at his words, for everything made sense now, and at last she felt like she could truly see him. Masks and silence were gone and she understood him unlike ever before. And to think she had been ready to leave him!

"So I got stuck behind my walls, unable to emerge from behind them and offer myself to you simply as I am. At first, I convinced myself it was how you wanted it – that you had married me out of duty and preferred to keep distance between us. I kept telling this to myself even when I saw your loneliness and all your efforts to find a way in. My dear Queen, I have seen death and horror, and yet it's nothing against the chance that you might find me unworthy", he said and fell silent. Then she knew that all the poison that had infected their relationship was now fully laid bare, and he hid nothing more from her. Having no assurance that she'd respond well, he had made himself open for her to judge, and just looking into his eyes she knew how hard it had been for him. And no wonder: she knew it took a great deal of courage to expose one's deepest thoughts to another's scrutiny. Even her brothers often preferred to act tough and mighty before her, as if they were afraid to let their sister to see them simply as men, flawed and incomplete and _human._

She could be proud and she could be stubborn, but she was not blind or cruel. He had come halfway to meet her and now it was her turn to bend.

And so she made her answer: with a small cry, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. She had thought to marry a king, but she had got a man as well – one who thought and felt so very deeply, who was everything but cold, who _loved_ her.

"You are a fool indeed", she mumbled, blinking hard against tears as she breathed in this moment and felt how he shivered. "A stubborn fool."

"Aye. I suppose I cannot deny that", he muttered into her hair, holding her just as tight. "Will you give me another chance?"

"If you promise me something", Lothíriel said and pulled back enough to look at him in the eyes. They were not guarded now, and instead she thought she saw there the person she had been trying to reach all this time. And it was exhilarating as well, because what he had feared was not so far from her own troubled musings. How many sleepless hours she had spent worrying he'd never find her worthy and capable? In the end, maybe they weren't so different as she had thought before.

"What is it?" he asked, wearing a face as though anything she asked, he'd give her.

"Back at Elmstoke, I wasn't angry because I was wrong. You had a right to go after the impostor, and I'm glad you were able to catch him. I would simply have liked you to listen to me – take time to show that you appreciated my point of view enough to explain me yours", she said softly, resting her hands on his shoulders. She moved them on the sides of his neck, and went on, "I don't ask to be _right._ I just ask to be _heard."_

He looked at her in silence, and she continued, "I have so much to give. Let me use what I have and be your queen."

And he smiled. It was not a forced expression, plastered on a mask of indifference or something to humour her. The smile erased all that was hard and stern about his features, even reaching his eyes and filling them with warmth. It was then Lothíriel knew she would love this man with all her heart.

"Of course. That is what I should have let you do from the start. From now on, I will listen to you and make space for you by my side. And if I ever forget this promise or neglect you again, then you need to tell me so right away", he stated solemnly. Then with some humour appeared in his eyes, and he added, "Just don't send Guthild with a chamberpot after me."

Laughter erupted from her lips, relieved and joyful. Éomer was talking to her, he was joking, and he was _smiling!_ It seemed almost too good to be true! She saw he was full of reprieve too, and where his body's language had always been so guarded and tense around her, except in those night hours when they were not king and queen but lovers in the dark, now tightness and the strain of reservedness were completely gone. What a pair of fools they were, tiptoeing around each other when clearly their thoughts and desires would lead them to a shared path!

Intoxicated by the rush coursing through her mind and heart, Lothíriel moved to kiss him. It felt right now, more so than ever before, and he responded it with a kind of tenderness as she had never imagined anyone having for her. She was half in his lap and his fingers were in her hair, smoothing their way through her tresses and against her scalp as though this was the first time he really touched her. There they lingered, both bewildered and glad; all things were clear now and after all the doubt she had felt, she could at last see before her with unveiled eyes.

When it ended, his whisper was rough and warm against the surface of her lips: "Thank you, Lothíriel."

"Thank you for what?" she asked, feeling a little dizzy.

"For giving me another chance. For making this hall beautiful again. And for saving me from myself", he said, and there was something so profound and momentous about his tone that she knew at once she was still far from understanding just what this meant for him. But she would be glad to find out.

"Don't mention it", she answered and thought of telling him how glad she was he had finally opened up to her, and reassure him that because of his deeds in the War of the Ring he was so high in her regard that simply being less sophisticated than some southern lord could never put her off. But she decided those were things to talk about in some other time, and for now this tentative understanding was more than enough. They still had much to learn about one another, and she knew that though they now saw one another eye to eye unlike ever before, they would still have to learn to communicate. In any case, it was a good start.

"What happens now?" she asked him, feeling eager and excited as though she was a young girl.

"I don't know. But we'll make this work", he told her, his voice warm and hoarse and _full._

"Yes. Together."

* * *

Things were different when they joined the rest of the household for supper that evening. Instead of gliding next to the King like she was going through a series of practised motions, Lothíriel walked close by her husband, their sides brushing as they moved, resting her hand on his arm and smiling at something he had just said. When she glanced up at him, he was smiling too, and he looked happier than she had ever seen him until now. All the masks and guarded silences were gone, and she was glad and overwhelmed. It would take some time to get used to the man he had revealed himself to be, but she looked forward to truly getting to know him.

On their way, she saw some of their folk looking at them in wonder, and she imagined what they must be thinking about this very drastic change in their king and queen's behaviour. But Gytha had a pleased little smile on her face, and it only widened when Lothíriel mouthed _"thank you"_ at her. Later on they would talk more, but for now the young queen was wholly focused in basking in this moment. For she felt like a stone that had grown heavier with passing months was finally gone, and she could breathe like she hadn't been able in a while.

They reached the dais where their seats had been readied for them, and Éomer pulled back her chair to help her sit down before he took his own place. But once he had settled down, he leaned closer to her, and whispered, "I haven't yet had a chance to find out how many reports my advisers have piled up on my desk while we were gone, but I suspect the amount borders on ridiculous. Would you like to assist me with them after supper?"

A slow smile spread on her face. Here were the words she had been waiting for! What a relief it was, now that they were finally uttered, and his sincere expression and the hopeful look in his eyes confirmed this was not simply an attempt to appease to her. He was truly was trying to change what he had thought until now and let her in – knowing his pride and stubbornness were no less than the match of her own, this was a gift unlike anything else she had received from other living men.

Lothíriel reached to touch the hand of her king and husband. Gently she twined her fingers with his and felt confident in the touch instead of uncertain. When she looked at the golden-haired man sitting by her side, she saw warmth and delight where she had only known reticence until now.

"I would be delighted", she answered him, and her mind was so excited and her belly full of butterflies that it was doubtful she'd be able to eat anything during the supper. But on the other hand, right now she rather felt like she could live on this happiness alone.

Éomer smiled as well and lifted their joined hands to kiss hers. He was looking as eager to explore what this change would mean for them. But as long as they were both willing to try, she at least was sure good things would follow.

She had a feeling things would be just fine from now on.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here you go! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)

So, we have our big confrontation. Hopefully, it will be able to explain the story so far and the reason Éomer has acted so stiff and reticent with his queen. In this version, he has simply been overwhelmed by her! But on the other hand it's not so different from Lothíriel's own doubts that he'll never regard her as worthy. And them both being proud and stubborn surely didn't help them figure it out until now.

While it's Gytha's prompt that finally gets Éomer to talk, I think that idea had already occurred to him, too. Certainly he was aware he had been treating his wife wrong. But I figured out when you're stubborn and hate appearing vulnerable, it's not very easy to share your innermost feelings. That's also why it took him so long to admit to himself he loved her - something I don't think he expected to happen.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **sailor68 -** You were quite right! But it seems to have turned out rather well in the end. :)

 **Guest -** Hope you enjoyed this chapter! He probably has already heard about her holding court, but there are other confessions that were more pressing at the time.

 **Jo -** Thank you! :)

 **EStrunk -** Glad to hear you liked it! I think she was close to falling prey to her own stubbornness and pride - well, even more so than until now - but luckily he opens up before that!

 **inperfection -** Thanks! It has been enjoyable to write those relationships, too. And while the reunion wasn't much, I hope the aftermath in Meduseld makes up for it!

 **Catspector -** Thank you very much! I think they have both thought about it much more than they have said to each other until now, but maybe air is cleaner between them now!

 **Nerdanel -** I admit I wondered if I could slip him in some way, but on the other hand it seemed necessary that he was completely out of Lothíriel's sight until this chapter. It rather gave her a chance to be a queen on her own.

 **Anon -** Glad you liked it! It's always rewarding to write a complex and strong lady. :)

 **FriendLey -** The story was indeed rated T until chapter four, which I imagine explains why I changed the rating. Éomer in action is indeed a sight to behold, but considering this is a story from Lothíriel's POV and she's not a warrior, I'm afraid there's not really a way to get a glimpse of him fighting. Also his silences served a purpose, which is hopefully explained by this chapter.

Lothíriel probably does get very well why he was determined to go, but like the last chapter and this one should demonstrate, she was more dismayed because she thought he was not treating her respectfully. Also, a good part of it is because they're both proud and stubborn and until now, they haven't learned to communicate properly.


	8. A Love for the Life

**A Love for the Life**

 _December 2 Fourth Age, Edoras_

Snowflakes fluttered gently across the courtyard of Meduseld in the soft light of winter afternoon. Air had got colder today and if the same temperature persisted, doubtlessly tomorrow they would wake up to see the plains covered in snow. Elfwine was sure to love it, just like his mother; this was her third winter in the north and she still had some wonder left for the phenomenon she had never seen in her southern home. Remembering that first winter of their married life, Éomer smiled to himself. His queen had appeared almost like a young girl when she had seen snow for the first time.

Leaving Firefoot with his esquire, Éomer King of the Mark felt that familiar eagerness grow in his chest. He was home again and soon he would see those he treasured and loved above all else in the world. After living for so long thinking he would never know something so fair and sweet, he appreciated this all the more.

Fires burning on the terrace of the Golden Hall glowed with inviting warmth as he climbed up the stairs that lead to the House of Kings. Doorwards bowed their heads and uttered greetings when their lord passed, and the richly carved twin doors were opened for him.

Golden light streamed outside, like a warm shimmer that meant life and all good things that existed in this marred world. His steps became faster as he strode inside, leaving behind the chill of a winter day. He left his cloak and gloves in the hands of a servant and quickly ran his fingers through his hair to brush off the snow. Éomer's eyes were already searching the Hall for a pair of faces, but before he saw them, he delighted in the sight of his home: flames burning in the fireplace, torches and candles spreading light, wreaths and garlands made of winter flowers and evergreens... he smelled smoke and juniper and fresh bread and saw that his home was shining spotless. All was ready for Yuletide and in a couple of days Meduseld would be filled with guests from all over the realm. As always, Lothíriel's management was impeccable.

Of course, at times her attempts to reach perfection could be truly frustrating. But she put up with his ways with gentle patience, which he always tried to respond with same courtesy. Like Gytha had told him when she had heard about his betrothal, this was the essence of a successful marriage – and it was perhaps the most valuable thing he had learned as a husband. He was glad to have understood it before it was too late.

And then he heard a bright little voice: "Da!"

From the other side of the Hall, they came. Elfwine waddled first, going as fast as his clumsy little feet carried him. The small prince had his mother's dark hair and looks and he was a happy child, dearly beloved by his parents and his people. Sometimes, when Éomer looked at his first-born child, he remembered the hot summer afternoon this child had been conceived. Perhaps that river was there somewhere in Elfwine's blood, and the sun of the day he had known he loved Lothíriel lived in their son's laughter.

Lothíriel followed close by, strolling to meet her husband. She smiled at him and her eyes were bright, her long dark hair cascaded softly down her shoulders and back, and it shined in contrast to her silver-grey gown. She was as lovely as the night he had first met her, or perhaps even more so. For these days, there was serenity about her that had only emerged when they had started to trust one another. She had been a fine lady from the start, but now she carried herself with ease and confidence of a woman who was born to be a queen.

With a soft laugh, Éomer scooped up his son and lifted the child high up in the air. Elfwine cried in delight, and the sound of his joy was as uplifting as ever. In the grim, lonely days of war Éomer had never guessed how much happiness he would one day know.

"Hello, son. Have you been a good lad?" he asked and gave a kiss to his son's cheek. The child giggled in response and squirmed.

"Lift higher, Da!" Elfwine demanded.

"Easy now, sweetheart. Your father only just got home", Lothíriel said as she halted to stand next to them. Securing their little boy against his shoulder, Éomer reached his other hand to his wife and he leaned down to kiss her. She made a happy little sound and wrapped her arms around his waist, tiptoeing into the kiss. Having his wife and son right there in the circle of his arms, he felt like the richest man in the world.

"Welcome home, love. Did you have a good trip?" Lothíriel asked him when they had kissed and he had pulled back again.

"It was fine. I'll tell you all about it later", he promised, knowing she would interrogate him relentlessly about his visit to Westfold and his meetings with Erkenbrand. Her keen mind never grew tired of the tidings of the realm.

He kissed her brow and smiled, "Léoma was asking when we'd go and visit the Hornburg again. But she rather forgot about her disappointment when I told her why you can't be travelling any time soon. I would be surprised if she doesn't convince Erkenbrand they should spend Yuletide in Edoras."

Lothíriel laughed as an answer, and with his free hand he gently caressed her belly. She was already starting to show.

"Well, how are you three?" he asked her softly. Once, the idea of having a family of his own had seemed almost impossible, but now it was real and he couldn't have been happier. As for his wife, she had told him she had never been more scared than the day she had given birth to their son. He' might not have guessed, hadn't she said so; she had the gift of appearing as though everything was easy to her.

"We are quite fine. Although I don't think Elfwine really understands yet what it means he's going to have a sibling. He seems to think it's the equivalent of having a new toy", she said wryly and shook her head before kissing the little boy's head.

He chuckled at that and looked fondly at their son.

"He'll find out the truth soon enough, especially when the fighting starts. Though if it's a girl, he's going to lose, and often. I should know", he aid lightly, which seemed to amuse her a great deal.

"Oh, yes", Lothíriel said and warm amusement glittered in her grey eyes. As an only daughter among four siblings, she probably knew a thing or two about getting her way.

"I hope our advisers didn't bother you too much while I was gone. You know you need to rest more than usually", Éomer said then, suspecting he'd find his desk almost as clear as it had been when he had left. The thought brought him a fond memory from a couple of years ago: when she had seen his desk for the first time, she had made an unimpressed little huff, and then she had made him sit down and wait while she swept her way through the worst of the mess. Since then she had procured various paper weights for the desk, each different-looking, and each marked a separate pile of parchments. One had unanswered correspondence, the second held reports, third was for appeals, and so on. However grudgingly he had to admit since then getting to the matters of the realm had been easier than ever before.

In a very real sense, she had taught him much about the world. But if he ever said that out loud, Lothíriel would point out that he had taught her about life just as much.

His queen gave him another of those wry smiles of hers and immediately he knew he would be debriefed soon enough, and once they met the royal council on the morrow, he would be as informed on the latest news as the most gossipy tavern wench in Edoras. No wonder Éothain liked to say that if you left Lothíriel alone for a few days, you would find her ruling a kingdom when you got back!

"My dear king, you are the biggest fuss I have ever met, and you are terrible at trying to hide it", Lothíriel stated matter-of-factly. One of the things he loved about her was her dry sense of humour. Past two years, he had discovered no one was as apt at making him laugh as she was. Once she had been unable to see through him, but now as days passed, she was growing to know him better than anyone. And each day she let him look into her thoughts and heart he counted himself among the luckiest of men. For somehow, he had not got himself only a queen who was a steadfast and reliable ally in ruling the kingdom, but also a woman he loved; with her he could be at ease, whether they were talking seriously, or jesting and bantering, or raising their child, or eating or riding or making love, or simply falling asleep in one another's arms.

"I am hopeless. Is that any news to you?" he asked jovially, and once more she laughed. At the sound, Elfwine laughed too, delighted in the happiness of his parents.

"No, I can't say that it is", Lothíriel stated, her tone light and amused. If he had found relief in letting her in, it seemed that finally feeling like she belonged had released her of the tenseness and doubt that had so often lived on her brow in those early days of their life together.

He gave her one of his more charming grins and kissed her brow. Then he took her hand in his own and said, "I was thinking you would be interested to hear Erkenbrand's ideas. Why don't we go to the study and talk about it?"

She smiled and nodded, and the hold of her fingers around his became tight.

"Of course. There are some reports you need to see, and Father finally sent an answer to the trading contract we proposed", she answered as they started to make their way towards the royal study. Elfwine's head was already nodding against Éomer's shoulder; and like they often did, one of them would wrap the little boy in a blanket and let him nap in an arm chair while his parents worked.

"Was he very shocked to see that being related to you gave him no business advantage?" Éomer asked, half humorous and half serious. His wife was growing to be a surprisingly formidable player in a table of negotiations. At times he suspected that in a few years time, all he would have to do was to bring her into meeting chambers and sit back while she lead the charge.

"Well, I've told him repeatedly I'm the Queen of Rohan now, and I must see to the good of my people first. It's his own fault if he can't grasp that", Lothíriel answered brightly, and he chuckled warmly.

"I wonder if he even realised what menace he was releasing into the world when he suggested our betrothal", Éomer quipped, and now his wife was laughing too. In a more serious tone, though he was still smiling, he went on to speak, "But do tell me about his answer. What are his conditions?"

So they walked side by side, heading for the royal study and their minds deep in the plans and designs they had for the land as they talked away. It was the third year of their marriage and their union had already brought a kind of good fortune into the realm as neither of them had guessed upon making their wedding vows. What they had not foreseen was how much they would gain from it simply as a man and a woman.

Next summer, another son of Éomer and Lothíriel would be born in the Golden Hall of the King.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N:** And here is the ending to the story! I hope you liked it. :)

Originally, I meant to finish the story with the previous chapter. But when I was writing it, I realised there would have to be one more, and it would have to be from Éomer's POV. After being in Lothíriel's head for the entire story, I wanted to look at things through his eyes - and show how their life has turned out after they opened up to one another.

This was a fun thing to write, though much less complicated than ALWR, and I have the next story already in the works. In fact, I've got two different fics outlined, so fear not: the next Éothíriel installment is in the works! So, see you in the first chapter of _Found in the Woods!_

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **EStrunk -** Yes, I think it was a relief to all parties. After such a horrible ride home, they really deserved some reprieve.

I guess people were pretty bewildered for a while after the whole affair. :D Almost makes me want to write a little companion piece from Gytha or Guthild's POV!

 **RubberKidney -** That's an interesting point of view! I admit I hadn't thought about it that deeply, but it definitely does bring me a different perspective to the text.

 **inperfection -** It was high time that he did! I think it's going to be much smoother sailing from here on.

 **Nerdanel -** Well, I'm afraid this is the end! But like I promised, I'll be posting another new story some time soon. :)

And you are right, reconciliation isn't easiest to write - especially if one has written the characters into a very difficult situation. But it can be deeply rewarding when peace is made. Anyway, I'm glad you liked it! :)

 **sailor68 -** You are quite correct! Like I said, I meant to finish the story with the previous chapter, but one more update seemed necessary. I don't know if anyone else feels that way, but I think this final chapter rather wraps up the story nicely.

 **Jo -** Oh, I hadn't realised the names were too similar! In fact it was Gytha the chatelaine who told him to go and talk to Lothíriel, not Guthild the maid. I think Gytha has been a long time in Meduseld, so she has something of an elder's authority and that's why Éomer listens to her.

Anyway you are right - admitting you have acted wrongly and speaking of your faults out loud isn't easy, especially when you're so proud and stubborn as he is.


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